


Addicted to You

by ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa



Category: Pedro Pascal - Fandom, Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: F/M, Frankie Morales deserves a happy ending, Past Lovers, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Smut, and im gonna give it to him, canon events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa/pseuds/ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa
Summary: As the sister of veteran turned freelance for hire Santiago “Pope” Garcia, you grew up close to his friends and ex-military squad. Frankie Morales always had your heart, in the same way you always had his–the two of you just never seemed to get the timing right. Trying to escape the violence of a military career based family, you turned to journalism and humanitarian work in war torn countries. But three days ago your crew was ambushed and after three days without any contact, Pope is getting the guys back together for a rescue mission.
Relationships: Frankie 'Catfish' Morales & Reader, Frankie Morales & Reader
Comments: 25
Kudos: 80





	1. The Chain

Present Day  
Somewhere in Texas, USA

Santiago “Pope” Garcia had always had a talent when it came to lying, but never had that talent been used so willingly on his closest friends. He was a good bluffer. It had helped his career in the military with his superiors, it had helped him on their weekly poker nights, but he had never planned on getting the five of them back together to boldly lie directly to their faces. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of the locker room as Will looked him over skeptically.

“What did he say?” Will asked, straddling the wooden bench and crossing his arms to mirror his friend.

“He’s taking a look at it,” Pope sighed, taking off his hat and running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “He may not be up for this.”

Of course he was talking about their friend Tom. Tom, code name ‘Redfly’ had been their captain back in the day, their leader, and his brutality and no bull shit attitude made him a good one. Pope knew if he wasn’t on board with this, then Will would be out, and the rest of them would drop like flies before this even began.

“You know he’s the best with something this complex, and he needs this right now,” Will said and Pope agreed with a silent nod.

Beyond the concrete walls of the locker room a cheering crowd could be heard albeit muffled. Both men turned and looked in the direction of the noise before Will shook his head and leaned forward on the bench.

“This shit is fuckin depressing,” he said.

“Come on let your brother have some fun. Support him.” Pope offered with a wave of his hand like Will’s brother getting the shit kicked out of him for a couple hundred bucks wasn’t a big deal.

“I’ve been supporting him since the day he was born.” Will pointed to the wall that stood between them and the mixed martial arts arena. “That kid’s a one in a million talent, going out there playing the fucking clown to a bunch of hillbillies.”

Pope started to respond but the door opened and a man dressed in nothing but loose fitting shorts and the med tape wrapped around his hands entered.

“Where are my boys at?!” He yelled in a deep voice like an announcer and threw his hands in the air.

“Benny! There he is!” Pope embraced him before patting him on the back and passing him off to his brother who stood up from the bench.

“Hey, shithead,” a familiar voice said in Spanish and Pope turned around to see Frankie, a wide grin on his face.

Frankie “Catfish” Morales, known mostly by 'cat’ or 'fish’ to his friends, was probably the closest thing Pope had to a best friend. Even though it had been two years since they had last seen one another, Frankie looked exactly like he always did. His dark curly hair stuck out under his trademark, ratted, ball cap. His lips held a full mustache while the rest of his face had what was probably week old scruff and the brightest smile of the group. It didn’t hit him until they were embraced in a tight hug just how much he had missed the man.

“How’ you doing?” Pope asked, patting him on the shoulder.

“Hanging in there, I guess.” Frankie nodded, finally letting go and moving to sit on the bench opposite of Will. “Is Tom coming?”

“Yeah, he said he would be here,” Pope nodded looking at all of them in front of him. “You assholes get my texts?”

All of them looked in various stages of guilt, rubbing the back of their neck, adjusting their ball cap, not meeting Pope’s eyes. Of course they had gotten his texts and by the tension in the room none of them had responded.

“Yeah,” Frankie finally broke the silence. “Yeah I got your texts.”

“And? I need a pilot.” Pope looked at his best friend.

“I don’t do that anymore, man.” Frankie shook his head and sighed. “Besides, I lost my license.”

“I don’t need a pilot with a license, I need a pilot I can trust. And that’s you.” Pope pointed at his chest and held his gaze.

Frankie rubbed his hand over his face and stood up, leaning back against the lockers and looking up at the ceiling. “Will, you in?”

“I told Pope, if Redfly was in, then so was I.” Will turned his sights to his friend and shrugged.

“And what about you, Benny?” Pope said, asking the man who had been quiet the longest.

“Of course I’m in.”

Pope ruffled his short, dirty blond hair roughly with a smile and a word of praise and Benny shoved him away with a grin.

“Fuck,” Frankie sighed and shook his head. “So, what’s the job?”

“Can we talk details later? It’s fight night–I got other shit to think about.” Benny pleaded, looking around to the other three as the crowd cheered again through the concrete walls.

“Sure, wouldn’t want you to be late,” Will scoffed and stood, offering a hand to his brother and helping him up off the bench. The three men left the locker room and started down the concrete tunnel that led out to the arena. Benny was in front, holding his fists out in front of him like a true heavyweight and mumbling what sounded like a well rehearsed pep-talk to hype himself up.

Frankie and Pope hung back a few steps beside the other two, falling into step with one another like they shared the same brain. The other boys often joked that they did. Frankie put his hand on Pope’s shoulder and rubbed his own beard in thought before he broke the silence.

“So, I got busted. That’s why my license lapsed. It’s not a big deal.” He let the sentence hang in the air before he shook his head and sighed. “Okay, so it is a big deal.”

Pope turned and looked at him. “Coke?” When Frankie nodded in agreement Pope rolled his eyes. “Jesus, Cat.”

“It’s still pending. But I’m clean now–I swear.”

Pope nodded as they kept walking. He believed him. Frankie was a man of his word, and he knew he didn’t have to prove anything to him. If he said he was clean, then he was clean. And cocaine or not, Frankie was the best damn pilot he had seen in his entire career, he wanted him for this job. No one else was going to cut it. Not when the objective was this important.

“Hey,” Frankie said, trying to act casual but sounding anything but. “Have you talked to (y/n) lately? How–uh, how’s she doing?”

There it was. He had to hand it to him, it took him longer to ask than he would have thought, but where it was normally endearing how much Fankie was still in love with you, this time it made Pope sick to his stomach. Did he tell him? He should tell him–even if it was just him. It was the right thing to do. Instead, as they approached the arena, the lie fell from his mouth.

“She’s uh–she’s good. Took a job down south, but I haven’t heard from her this week.” It wasn’t a total lie. Pope didn’t look at him and he could feel his friend staring intently at him.

Frankie let it go, even though his expression said he didn’t want to. “So, what is this job really? What aren’t you telling me?”

Pope looked over his shoulder, “It is what I said. Simple recon. We can talk details after the fight.”

“Sure, whatever you say, man,” he shook his head as they walked into the crowd and Benny greeted Tom with a cheer and a hug as the taller man started passing out beers he had just gotten from the concession stand. “I’m in.” Frankie said flatly and walked passed Pope, taking a beer from Tom and giving him a clap on the shoulder.

Pope stopped short and watched the other man smile and interact with the rest of his friends. Frankie was his oldest friend, and lying to him hurt worse than that time he was shot down in Peru. Frankie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember, and if Pope was being honest with himself, he was the only man that deserved you and that he trusted to take care of you. He thought you guys would really make it work, and the day you called it quits hurt him too. Why wouldn’t he want his best friend to take care of his sister? Protect you when he couldn’t? Make sure you spend the rest of your life happy.

The four of them sat in the front row as Benny walked up the steps to the raised fighting platform, ducking under one of the ropes and bouncing around like there were springs on his feet. Pope looked back at Frankie and when the other man smiled, Pope returned it but it was a lie. He knew he was going to be crushed when he found out why the gang was really back together. When Frankie found out you were missing, nothing was going to stop him from getting you back–that’s the real reason Frankie was the most important part of this crew. Because just like Pope, Frankie would get you back…or burn the whole country down trying.

–

Two years earlier

It was just supposed to be drinks and pool, maybe some darts if he talked you into it–you were a terrible shot and it made him laugh until his eyes watered. Frankie had asked you to go to the bar while he was in town and you had happily said yes. You missed him. And by the look on his face you knew he missed you too.

It was never awkward when you were with Frankie. No matter how much time had passed, as soon as the two of you were back together it was like picking up right where you left off. Gentle touches, knowing each other’s drink order, holding hands, it was all so natural. He opened every door for you, bought every seven and seven you ordered, and paid for every round of pool, shoving more quarters into the metal slot and racking up the balls the second the previous game ended.

The first part of the date ended when Frankie tried to teach you how to do a trick shot in the corner pocket. He leaned his pool cue against the table and stood behind you, wrapping his arms around yours and putting his large hands over yours on your own pool stick. He smelled like fresh air, like the woodsy smell of recently cut grass, clean earth, and just a hint of campfire smoke–musky and comfortable and safe. He spoke in your ear telling you where to aim, and even though he had to speak over the other patrons and the juke box it felt like he was whispering just for you. When he pressed himself against your ass, your body erupted in goosebumps. He must have felt it too because he asked, “Wanna get out of here?” And all you could do was nod.

The both of you fumbled into your apartment, he barely got the door closed by kicking it, as you dropped your purse and keys on the floor and started unbuttoning his shirt. Of course all of this would have been easier if either of you could pull away from each other’s lips, but that wasn’t happening.

“Bedroom or couch?” You said as you shoved his shirt off of his shoulders.

He grabbed the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head in one smooth motion. “Both.” The two of you laughed and kept kissing as he walked you backwards towards the hallway. “Kitchen. Floor. Shower.” He kissed you after each word and you blushed, laughing again at his suggestion. This was the Frankie you remembered. This was the Frankie you fell in love with.

“Got big plans for this weekend, do ya?”

“Yup,” he bent slightly and gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist. “And they all involve you.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him hard on the lips. His tongue slid into your mouth like it had so many times before, exploring, tasting, moaning softly into you. He knew where your bedroom was, walking down the hall like he lived there and nudging the door open with his hip. Some summers, back when both of your lives were simpler, it was almost like he did live there. He had his own drawers, his own side of the bed, and you made sure his favorite coffee was always in the cabinet.

“Frankie,” you breathed against his mouth and his grip tightened on you. You slid your fingers into his hair, removing his ball cap and tossing it behind you.

“Tell me, baby,” he mumbled back, putting you down on the bed and crawling over your body.

“I missed you,” you said and he froze, looking down at you with those enchanting brown eyes.

He swallowed hard and tried to slow his breathing. “I missed you, too.”

The both of you took a moment just staring at one another. He leaned down and gave you another soft kiss before moving to trail his lips down your jaw, moving to your breasts and unclipping the snap in the front. He took each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing and kneading them as you closed your eyes and carded your fingers through his hair again. When he took one of your nipples between his teeth you gasped, arching your back off of the bed and holding him against you.

“You still like that?” He mumbled, moving to the other nipple and repeating the motion, sucking it into his mouth along with as much of your breast as he could. The feel of his teeth against your skin was exquisite and you could have let him do what he was doing all night.

“What do you think?” You laughed as he moved from your breasts down your stomach, biting and kissing his way to the edge of your jeans. “You always were a boob man.”

“For your perfect tits? Absolutely.” He undid the button and zipper, grabbing opposite sides of your pants and underwear, shimmying them off of your hips.

“Charming.” You scoffed, raising your hips to help him as he stood and did the same to his own.

“You always thought so.”

He knelt on the bed, stroking his half hard cock before he fell on top of you, making the mattress bounce gently. You gripped his shoulder and rolled him over onto his back, enjoying the surprise on his face and the absolute adoration as your breasts hung directly in front of his face. He started to raise up to put them in his mouth again but you pressed his shoulders back into the bed.

“My turn,” you grinned and he nodded, letting you move down his body, kneeling off to the side.

As soon as you wrapped your hand around his dick, his eyes fluttered closed. You worked him slowly before bowing your head and letting some saliva pool in the front of your mouth and letting it drop slowly onto the head and down the shaft. Your hand worked the liquid down, making it slide easier as you pumped him.

“Fuck, (y/n),” he sighed as he watched you. “You’re killing me.”

“You still like that?” You asked, playfully, mocking his earlier question and he chuckled.

“Smart ass.”

You smiled again before taking him in your mouth and you revelled in the way he moaned softly and slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head. You bobbed in tandem with your hand, working the entire shaft as you sucked the head of his cock and his grip on your hair tightened. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, your lips meeting your fist and a small sound escaped you as he hit the back of your throat. He thrusted up involuntarily and when you gagged slightly, he opened his eyes and looked at you worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed and you shook your head, continuing to suck him off, running your tongue along the large vein that ran the length of him. There was no apology needed, you were just as desperate to remember his body as he was yours. He held out for a few more pumps, rock hard in your hands before he sat up and grabbed you by the arm. “Come here. Come here, baby.”

You let him pull you to him as he leaned his back against the headboard and pulled you into his lap. He reached his hand between the two of you and ran two thick fingers along the slit of your pussy.

“Shit,” he cursed quietly as he felt how wet you already were. He loved how quickly you were ready for him, it had always been like that. He could have you dripping for him before he even got you undressed and he loved reaching up your skirt or your dress and feeling you against the lace of your thong. “You’re so wet.”

“You love it,” you said as he continued to stroke you and you straddled his hips, putting his arms around his shoulders.

“Always have,” he said and it was in a voice tender enough that you weren’t sure if you were talking about the same thing any more.

You leaned up on your knees as he took his cock in his hand and lined it up between your thighs. You lowered yourself on to him, sinking down slowly and letting your body adjust to his length. He throbbed inside of you as you paused, letting yourself adjust to his girth. The stretch was intense and you wanted it to last forever, feeling every inch of him as the bottom of your thighs touched the top of his and you settled in his lap. Your fingers found their way into his dark, soft hair. It was a little longer at the ends and you liked the way it curled around his hat, but that hat was currently on the floor with the rest of your clothes so you could touch the soft locks as much as you wanted.

“You ready, baby?”

You nod and hold him close, your breasts pressing against his chest, your foreheads coming together as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Fuck me, Frankie. Please, please.” You whisper the last few words over his lips as he started to thrust up inside of you.

You both released a contented sigh at the same time and it made you smile. Even in your worst days, it always felt like you and Frankie were in sync, two halves of a whole. How your body had missed him, missed the soft way he said your name and the way he held you close to him like he wouldn’t be satisfied no matter how close you were.

“I missed you,” he said, closing his eyes as he guided your hips up and down, rocking against him as your stomachs brushed together.

“You said that already,” you smiled, moaning softly as he hit a particularly sweet spot deep inside of you.

“And I’ll say it again,” he grinned, pressing his nose against your cheek and kissing your lips.

“Charmer,” you kissed him back, soft and slowly.

He dipped his head and kissed your neck, sucking along the soft skin of your throat. You wanted him to leave marks like you both were in grade school, making out in the back of the movie theater, kissing in the bed of his truck, back when things were simpler. His arms tightened around your back as you nosed his hair, breathing him in and kissing the top of his head.

“Fuck,” he cursed quietly as you ground your hips down on his lap. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Don’t stop,” you moaned softly in his ear as he picked up the pace. “Harder, Cat, harder, please.”

He held you tightly as he looked up and put his hand on the back of your neck. “Look at me.” You opened your eyes and leaned back slightly to look down at him with heavy eyes. “God damn, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered and it made you blush. You kissed him hard and slid a hand between the two of you, frantically searching out your clit as his thrusts started to get sporadic and uneven.

“I’m gonna cum, Cat-” you watched as he looked at you and nodded encouragingly.

“Come on, baby. Give it to me. I got you,” he panted close to your face as his cock hit the end of you, pumping up inside of you.

Your orgasm took you suddenly and completely. Your mouth opened but no sound came out as you clenched around his cock and squeezed your thighs around his lap. You felt the heat rise up from your core to the rest of your body in a way that made you curl your toes against the bedspread. You threw your head back and groaned out your pleasure to the ceiling, his name falling from your lips with sweet ecstasy as you clung to his shoulders.

He followed right behind you, spilling himself inside your cunt, the feeling of him hot and wet around his cock and starting down your thighs. He thrust hard, and spaced out, a few more times, grunting a mixture of his pleasure and your name with each movement.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, leaning back against the headboard and pulling you against him.

You pressed your cheek against his chest, breathing hard as you ran your hand up his neck and played your fingers against the scruff along his jaw. He was still inside you and you clenched your thighs again, an afterthought of a muscle twitch left over from your orgasm. It made him groan again and tighten his grip on your hips.

“Sorry,” you laughed softly and he chuckled.

“We still got it, don’t we?” He asked, looking down at you with a boyish grin.

“I never had any doubts.” You crossed your arms on his chest and laid your head on top of them, looking up into his eyes. You shivered as he lifted your hips slightly and his softening cock slid out of you and you both got more comfortable. It was definitely quicker than the two of your normally liked it to be, but after being apart for so long, you had a feeling anything that happened tonight would be desperate and fast.

He dipped his head and kissed you softly, each kiss punctuated but a soft pop in the silence of your bedroom. He brushed your hair away from your face and smiled.

“You want me to head out soon?” He asked, trying to hide the fear in his face of the possibility that you would make him leave.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head and staying firmly planted on top of his lap. “No, stay the night. Please.” You added the last word sweetly and his face relaxed.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He nosed your hairline and kissed your forehead.

You knew this couldn’t last. You knew he was leaving tomorrow for another mission, another pilot seminar, and you were headed upstate for your job as well. You loved Frankie Morales with all of your heart and he felt the same way–life just always seemed to have other plans. And yet, life was just as cruel as it was sweet because somehow, someway, it always brought you two back together.

—

Present Day  
Some where in the jungles of Columbia

You weren’t sure how long you had been traveling. In fact, when you thought about it, you didn’t know much of anything. You twisted your wrists in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure the zip ties were leaving on your skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered, leaning your head back against the side of the van. The bumps and potholes in whatever shitty road you were on caused the back of your skull to bump against the metal. How had this happened?

The last few days had been a blur. You and a group of journalists were having dinner in a local village. You had teamed up with a group of doctors and, in between travel, were lending a hand providing basic medical care to anyone who needed it in the surrounding towns. You cut bandages, gathered clean water, played soccer with the children, and took photos to add to your collection and publish when you got back to the States. It had been a pretty uneventful trip, enjoyable actually, until Lorea’s men had shown up. No one seemed to know what the dangers narcos drug lord would be doing in a place like this.

Before you knew what was even happening, there were guns pointed at your crew, men yelling in Spanish that you only vaguely understood, and you raised your hands above your head shouting back, pleading them to calm down. Did they want money? No, that would have been too easy, and as a traveling journalist that dabbled in humanitarian efforts, money was not something you had a lot of anyway.

A rather large man grabbed you by the wrists and even though you struggled, even though you screamed, it didn’t make any difference. A hand on your head made you duck as you were shoved into a van along with a few of the others on your crew and the door slammed shut behind you.

“Stop, stop,” you tried as the van revved and pulled away down the street. “You don’t have to do this–” The man who grabbed you ignored your words, if it was because he didn’t understand English or because he didn’t care, you weren’t sure.

He jerked your wrists in front of your body and wrapped the zip tie around them, pulling it tight. Your heart was beating way too fast and you could feel the blood rushing in your ears and on instinct you pulled your hands away from him and screamed again, turning towards the door. He yelled something in Spanish and pulled his arm back before punching you in the side of the face. Your world exploded into flashes of white as you hit the floor of the van. With the wind knocked from your lungs, you gasped for air and coughed, your eyes burning with hot tears.

The man driving turned and yelled something over his shoulder, obviously upset at his partner for roughing up the merchandise. Your stomach felt nauseous and the last thing you remember was some kind of scratchy material being put over your eyes and the rest of the world went black.


	2. All Along the Watch Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this part the boys head to Columbia to do some reconnaissance. They all find out why they are really there and as expected…Frankie does not handle it well. There will obviously be more ‘reader’ centric parts as time goes on. I thrive for your thoughts and comments. **Shout out to @rae-gar-targaryen for being an amazing person and helping me with translations. The italics are either Spanish, with the translations in ( ) or they are the boys talking over the coms as a reminder that they are spread out and not near one another–let me know if that reads okay or if there is a better way to do the Spanish/English in the paragraphs.

Seventeen thousand dollars for one week of reconnaissance wasn’t anything to shake a stick at. And Frankie was almost ashamed to say when Pope told them that was the initial pay out, they all jumped on it without knowing many details. Times were tough. Tom was going through a divorce, paying two mortgages, and scraping by as a piss-poor real estate agent. And in the words of Pope, the real crime was that he had been shot for his country five times and couldn’t afford to send his daughters to college. Will was still giving pep talks, to kids barely old enough to drink, through the recruiting agency and traveled so much settling down and having a family wasn’t an option. Benny was street brawling in a cage every Friday night for what he could make playing penny slots up at the casino. And Frankie–well, Frankie drifted from one job to the next, never having a job long enough to get basic health insurance and pay for anything that would help the nightmares he had every night. So, maybe it wasn’t all that sad when the four of them jumped at the idea of making five figures for a week of work. 

They had each packed a bag and flown over the borde into Columbia where they spent the first day letting Pope show them around and talk about the terror that narcos like Lorea was unleashing on the country. He laid it on pretty thick when honestly, he didn’t need to. They were already there. No backing out now. 

Somewhere on the outskirts of the city Pope had a storage unit that was basically full of everything they would ever need for recon work. They loaded up on assault rifles and ammunition, radio communication tools, med kits, binoculars and scopes, hell, he even had fucking night vision goggles for each of them. Pope tossed Frankie a bulletproof vest and he strapped it on, still looking at the impressive wall to wall unit of tactical gear. He knew he had been after Lorea for three years, but this was excessive, especially if it had all been paid for by the Columbian government. 

As far as the four of them knew, this mission was off the grid. Pope had cut a deal with local authorities and had intel that Lorea had about seventy-five million dollars of drug money holed up in the middle of the fucking jungle. If they decided to take the job after the recon, well, they got to keep twenty five percent of it. Frankie couldn’t even begin to think what he would do with that kind of money. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something Pope wasn’t telling them. He spent the majority of the first leg of the trip waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop. 

“Holy shit,” Will whistled as Pope showed them the storage unit. “Where did you get all of this, man?”

“I told you,” Pope said, tossing a vest at the blond. “I’ve been after this guy for three years. The Columbian government is extremely motivated–if I say I need it, it shows up within a week or two.” 

Benny picked up one of the assault rifles and flipped it over in his hand, examining the mag chamber and nodding. “Must be nice.”

“Listen,” Pope stopped digging through the supplies and looked at them. “I need to know you guys are sure about this. Lorea isn’t in some hole in the jungle–it’s a mansion. We’re talking guards, barbed wire fencing, security cameras. That’s why the reccie is so important.”

“We get it, man,” Tom said holding out his hand. “It’s serious shit. Now give me my com.” Tom held out his hand and Pope put a radio and earpiece in his palm. And that was that. They were all in.

The next day the five of them were in the thick of it. Frankie moved slowly through the trees, big, lush green leaves slid along his arms and torso as he stepped carefully through the mud and sticks. His steel-toed boots were quiet enough for this terrain but he kept his eyes peeled for any trip wires or trigger cameras. 

Will walked alongside him, mirroring his footsteps with about ten feet between them as they swept a path towards the chain link fence that surrounded the perimeter. Pope and Tom had set up a vantage point on the hill, using binoculars to walk them through the path and tell them what they were up against. 

It was humid as fuck and his shirt clung to his back and he felt a bead of sweat start to drip down from the brim of his hat. As he smacked a mosquito off of his arm he remembered there was a reason he had moved back to Texas.

“What are we lookin’ at, Cat?” Tom said over the radio and his voice came clearly into Frankie’s ear.

“I got two guards by the south end.” He clicked the button on his headset and kept moving.

“Looks like I got one by the gate,” Will confirmed. “How reliable is this informant, Pope?”

“She’s good for her intel.” Pope answered simply.

Pope’s informant was a local, who apparently had been feeding him information off the grid for a ticket out of the country and a small cut of the money they recovered. Apparently she drove a van onto the base like clockwork to deliver loads of Lorea’s cash. Some of the guys, mainly Tom, figured the intel was bullshit and Pope was too trusting because he had most likely been balls-deep in this broad. But if Pope trusted her, then so did Frankie.

“Yeah, that means she’s smokin’ hot.” Benny said, from his spot on the north side of the Mansion. “Blonde or Brunette? I’m trying to paint a picture here while I sweat my ass off in these fuckin’ trees.”

“Fuck off,” Pope said flatly.

“Keep the radios clear, assholes,” Tom said with annoyance in his voice. “Focus.”

Frankie walked a few more feet, making sure he stayed in the cover of the foliage as he peered through the links. And clear as day he saw their first issue. A young girl, probably about ten years old, ran past one of the guards chasing after a soccer ball, before a young boy stole it from her and they ran back into the house. 

“Shit.” He cursed. “Pope, we got kids here. Does he have kids living here with him? Because if he does that complicates things and that is not what I signed up for.” 

“The family’s not the problem,” Pope’s voice came through his ear. “They’re the answer.”

“Why?” Frankie felt the anger in his voice but he couldn’t stop it. He did not sign up to hurt kids. Drug lords? Sure. Their guards? Absolutely. If it shot at him then he would shoot back–but kids did not fit that criteria. 

“Church.” Pope said like that answered everything and the rest of them waited in silence for him to continue. “Lorea is very devout. Every Sunday morning he sends three guards to the six AM service. When they get back, he sends the rest of the team with his family down to mass. That leaves him and three guards in that house. That’s our way in.” 

“Why would he do that?” Will said.

“Worried about someone taking his kids,” Pope shrugged. “And he never leaves his money.” There was a pause over the radio before Pope continued, “Plus–I don’t think he expects anyone to actually have the balls to try and rob him.”

“What does that say about us?” Will said, approaching the fence line and looking through a few of the slats. “Shit…”

“What do ya got, Will?” Tom said over the com and everyone waited with baited breath. 

“I got an execution about to go down.”

Silence was over the coms as they all waited to hear more details. Frankie lowered his binoculars and stepped carefully over the fallen branches on the forest floor. Once he was next to Will, he peered through the slats in the worn down boards that leaned against the fence. Sure enough, there were a handful of men on their knees in the dirt, burlap bags over their heads as one of Lorea’s henchmen pressed the barrel of a handgun to the back of their skull. 

“Fuck,” Frankie whispered, shaking his head. 

Will closed his eyes as the first shot rang out and the man at the beginning of the line fell to his knees in a splatter of his own blood and brain matter. “Not our place, man.” The blond whispered and he was right. Going in there to stop whatever was happening would do nothing but get them killed. 

That’s when they heard the screaming.

“No!” her voice rang out as another shot echoed in the courtyard of the mansion and the second hostage fell beside the first. “¡Pare! ¡Pare, por favor– no hicimos nada! Déjame ir." Maybe if you tried Spanish they would listen to you, but you doubted it. (“Stop! Stop–please, we didn’t do anything–let me go!)

Frankie felt his stomach drop to his feet. He knew that voice. He would be able to pick her voice out of a crowd anywhere. He had heard her happy. He had heard her sad. He knew the way she whispered sweet nothings in his ear. However, what he had never heard was the near hysterical level of fear that her voice held now. 

“What the fuck?” Will whispered as realization dawned on him too and the pair watched another of Lorea’s lackies pull you from the van screaming and kicking as hard as you could. 

Your blindfold had fallen off in the transport from the city to the jungle in the middle of nowhere and although your hands were still zip tied in front of you, that didn’t stop you from trying like hell to get away. The burly bald man that pulled you from the van wrapped a large arm around your chest and picked you up off the ground. You continued to scream as they shot another one of your crew in the execution line and finally your assailant put his hand over your mouth. 

“(Y/n)…” Frankie wanted to puke. Your screams cut through him like a knife. The physical pain he felt in his chest as he watched you with wide eyes was almost too much to bear. His feet started to walk him toward the gate before he even realized he was moving.

“Cat!” Will hissed, getting up from his hiding spot and grabbing him by the back of the shirt. 

“Let me go–” Frankie tried to shove him off, keeping his voice down as much as he could. His hands shook, his knees felt like they were going to give out, but he had to get to you. His body was moving faster than his brain was processing. Why the fuck were you here? Here of all places.

Will tightened his grip and pulled him back down to his crouched hiding position. “You walk in there now, you’re dead and so is she!” Will all but begged him to listen to reason. “I don’t know why she’s here but at least she’s alive.”

Frankie held his jaw tight as he looked at Will and then back to the fence. 

“Pope,” Benny said over the radio from his vantage point. “Did you know she was here?” 

The radio stayed silent. Frankie put one knee on the ground to balance himself. He bit his lip and nodded to Will. He would stay put for now. But if they tried to kneel you down in the execution line, he was going in–with or without the others. 

As the bald man put his hand over your mouth you did the only thing you could think of and bit down hard on his fingers, driving your heel backwards against his shin. He dropped you like you had burned him and you stumbled, catching yourself on your bound hands before getting back up and trying to run. 

“Cuca!” the man cursed, shaking his hand out and quickly lunging to grab you by the hair. When you tried to kick him again he spun you around and back handed you across the face.

You hit the ground hard, a small cry coming from the back of your throat as your face hit the dirt. You could already feel the twinge in your lip and taste pennies on your tongue as you spat a small bit of blood onto the gravel. Hoping that you could close your eyes and this would all have been a dream, that’s what you did. The fucker had hit you hard enough that you coughed, a hollow ache settling in your chest as you fought to not let yourself cry. 

A smaller man exited the van and saw what was happening and slapped the bald lackie on the back of his head. "No dañe la mercancía!” (Don’t damage the merchandise)

“Esta puta necesita un bozal.” The bald man spat back as he grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. (This bitch needs a muzzle)

“Lorea estará muy enojado…” The smaller man scoffed and waved off the bald man, heading back across the yard. (Lorea is going to be upset.)

Cunt. Merchandise. Bitch. Frankie listened to them degrade you and he felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat. He wanted to kill each and every one of them. No. Not just kill. He wanted to make them suffer. He wanted to smash that bastard’s head against the bricks over and over until he could never lay another finger on you, or anyone else, ever again. He wanted to shove the barrel of his own gun inside that prick’s mouth and pull the trigger until there was nothing left of his skull but a handful of teeth. 

Frankie started to move forward again and Will grabbed him before he could get more than a couple of steps. 

“Frankie!” He all but pleaded as Frankie tried to fight his grip with a grunt and they both struggled in the leaves. Will put his arms around the other man’s shoulders in sort of a modified choke hold and kept him stationary.

“You gotta let me go man–they’re gonna hurt her.” Frankie tried desperately. His throat was tight, his heart was pumping way too fast, he couldn’t just sit here. “I have to go get her–”

“I can’t do that, brother,” Will shook his head and tightened his grip ever so slightly. “It’s a death sentence and you know it. We gotta regroup. Come up with a plan. We’ll get her–I promise.”

Frankie watched helplessly as they took you inside the mansion and out of his sight. Two years. It had been almost two years since he had seen your beautiful face. Two years since that night after playing pool at that dive bar on the outskirts of Dallas. Two years since he had smelled your skin or tasted your lips and yet there you were–just as goddamn beautiful as he always remembered and he couldn’t get to you. 

“Whatta ya want to do, Pope?” Benny’s voice came over the coms and brought them all back to their present task. “You’re running this shit show.”

“Meet back at the trailhead entrance. We’ll go over everything and come up with a plan.” Pope’s voice said much too calmly in response and Frankie hated him for it. 

He knew. He had known from the minute he showed his face back in Texas that you were here. He had lied to his friends and worst of all he had lied to Frankie. But why? Pope knew better than any of them how close Frankie was to you–that you were special to him. 

He jerked his arms free from Will’s grasp and stood up. He wouldn’t do anything rash, he needed time to think. Ripping his hat off and squeezing the bill in his hand he cursed quietly and ruffled his own hair furiously. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” He growled as he started back towards the rendezvous point, not bothering to look or even care where he was going. He ripped the com from his ear and let it hang useless from the collar of his shirt.

“We need to get the fuck out of this jungle.” Will watched him go and squeezed the button on his radio again. “Cat’s not doing so hot, man.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Benny retorted. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Easy, smartass,” Will warned.

“Don’t let him go in that house and blow our cover.” Tom said, flatly. As if he really thought Will would be stupid enough to let such a thing happen.

“Way ahead of you.” Will snapped back before getting up to follow his friend back through the trees.

—

The five of them drove from the mansion in silence. By the time the Jeep crawled its way out of the rough terrain of the jungle the sun had already set. Crickets were starting to chirp and a few fireflies speckled the tall grasses on the sides of the road as dusk took over. Will drove with Pope in the passenger seat and Frankie in the back, purposely putting distance between the two men for the ride to the small village that they were staying at. 

No one said anything until Will parked the car in the gravel in front of a dive bar and all four doors opened as they climbed out. Before any of them could blink, Frankie walked around the car and grabbed Pope by the lapels of his button up shirt and slammed him back against the side of the Jeep. 

“Fish!” Will said, but Pope held up his hand and waved the blond off as he winced. Frankie had had the entire drive to stew about this and he more than deserved whatever he had to say. 

“You knew,” Frankie grit his teeth and got close to Pope’s face. “You fucking knew she was here and you said nothing!” 

“Is that true, Pope?” Benny asked, sticking a cigarette behind his ear. 

“Yeah,” Pope whispered and nodded his head. 

“Why?” Frankie hissed and pulled him forward slightly, pushing him back against the jeep again, not bothering to be gentle about it. “Why wouldn’t you fucking tell us, man? Why wouldn’t you tell me??”

Frankie couldn’t keep his voice from cracking at the end and at this point he didn’t care. The thought of you in the hands of a Columbian drug lord was something he could barely fathom. Were you scared? Of course you were. Had Lorea let any of his guys touch you? Hurt you more than he had seen in the driveway? There wasn’t a way for him to tell you that they were coming to get you. You were alone–and he couldn’t do a damn thing. 

“I needed to know that you guys were in this because you wanted to be–not because you would feel guilty if you said no. This is dangerous. We have no support. No back up. No med e-vac. We are on our own.” He said each word pointedly, looking from Frankie to the other guys individually before back to the man in front of him. “I needed to know that you accepted that because you wanted to and not just because my little sister was in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Frankie, laughed bitterly and shook his head. “You’re something else, Santiago. A flat tire is trouble. Getting laid off is trouble–she could have been killed.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Pope bit back, finally raising his voice a little. “Do you think this has been easy for me? That’s (y/n) in there! I’m her brother! I’m the one that chose the dangerous career–she was supposed to be safe!”

“How long have you known?” Tom asked.

“A few days,” Pope said, quietly. “I knew she was in the area because we were supposed to meet up. When she never showed the locals said Lorea had ambushed a group of Americans–journalists, a couple doctors. I tracked the ping off of her cell for a day, but then I lost it. I knew he had to have her.”

“Goddamn,” Tom said, shaking his head.

“I knew I needed help,” Pope looked back up at them. “And if I use any of the guys down here, Lorea will get whiff of this thing and he will be gone–and so will she.”

“Whose money is it?” Tom asked and Pope looked at him with a carefully blank face.

“It’s complicated. You were paid through a third party LLC–”

“Ehhh, it’s not that complicated. A hundred thousand dollars for a recon–,” Tom said sarcastically. “Whose money is it, Pope?”

Pope sighed and shook his head. “It’s my money.”

“Hijo de puta,” Frankie cursed and let out a pissed off chuckle. (Son of a bitch)

“That doesn’t change anything!” Pope tried but none of them were having it.

“Of course it does!” Will said, letting his voice get louder for the first time that night. “You thought you had to pay us to–” He stopped himself and took a deep breath.

Frankie eased his grip on the other man’s shirt a little bit and bit his lip. His chest ached. His heart felt hollow between his ribs and he wished the rock that was sitting in his throat would go away and let him take a deep breath as well. 

“How could you think that we would have said ‘no’?” Will asked. “We care about her too–she’s your family.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you the truth!” Pope pointed at him and squared his jaw. “If it was personal you all would have followed me blindly and I needed it to be your own choice.”

“You’re an idiot, Pope,” Benny said less tactfully and Will elbowed him in the ribs.

Pope wasn’t listening to them. He was focused on his best friend and he said the only thing he could think of. “I’m sorry, Frankie.” He was sorry, more than he could express. He didn’t want to be doing this, to see the people he cared about most going through this shit-storm. But they were here and it was up to him to get everybody out safe. 

Frankie released him abruptly letting Pope fall back against the Jeep and leaving his shirt wrinkled from his white-knuckled grip. He shook his head and rubbed a large hand over his eyes and down his face. “I need a minute.” He kept his voice low, trying to keep his emotions at bay as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked off into the dark of the parking lot, focusing on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. 

The four of them were left in silence as they watched him go. 

“So, what about the money?” Tom finally spoke and Benny chuckled.

“Fuck you, man,” Will shook his head and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I’ll go see if he’s okay.” He nodded in the direction Frankie went before walking away.

Pope rubbed the back of the neck and nodded. He looked back at Tom. “The intel on the money is still valid. Lorea is still running a fully operational drug business. It’s just an added bonus to if we can pull this off.”

“Good,” Tom nodded and crossed his arms. He jerked his head over towards the patio of the bar. “Come on. You owe us a drink and we need to come up with a plan.”

—

Frankie put the cigarette between his lips and flicked it to life with his metal lighter. He inhaled deeply, pocketing the metal square and closing his eyes to rub them furiously with the back of his hand. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to wait all night before they loaded up and headed out?

He thought about the last time he saw you. I missed you. He always missed you. The way you said his name, the way you smelled, the way your arms wrapped around his waist as you laid your head against his chest–he missed it all. 

“Shit,” he cursed quietly, moving the cigarette from his lips so he could wipe the couple of tears that had fallen off of his cheeks. 

“Cat?” Will asked, and Frankie stayed facing away from him.

“Yeah?” he said with a clearing of his throat, but he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Will.

“You okay?” Will asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Oh, yeah,” Frankie nodded, taking another drag off of his smoke and blowing it back out through his nose. “I’m great.” His tone was hateful, but he couldn’t make it sound any other way and Will knew it wasn’t directed at him. 

“She’s gonna be okay, man–”

“Is she?” He angrily threw his cigarette onto the ground and twisted it under his boot. “How long have we been doing this? How long have we gone after guys like him?”

“Frankie–”

He took a step closer to Will and pointed his finger into his chest but Will stayed perfectly still. “Guys like Lorea do whatever the fuck they want until guys like us stop him. They take and they take and he has her! Why? Why did it have to be her?”

Will swallowed hard as he watched Frankie’s eyes get wider. It may have been the middle of the night, but the light of the crescent moon couldn’t hide the water that was pooling at the edge of his eyes. Will’s own heart broke for the desperate man in front of him. Of course he cared for you, too, but it was nothing compared to the torch that Frankie held for you. They all knew that. 

“What if he hurts her?” Frankie, dragged his hand down his mouth and rubbed his jaw, trying to steady his shaking words. “What if–”

“We can’t think like that. You cannot think like that.” Will shook his head and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’re going to go in that fucking mansion tomorrow and we are not leaving without her. I promise you that.”

“What if he’s already killed her? And I never got to–” Frankie bit his lip and looked out into the street with a shake of his head. “And I never got to–” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t put into words all of the things that he never got to do when it came to you. And now, for the life of him, he could not come up with a single thing that was so important that it had stood between the two of you all of these years. He closed his eyes and fell silent, not even resisting when Will pulled him into a vice-like embrace and clapped him on the shoulder a few times. 

“We’re gonna get her back. And you’re going to tell her everything you’re thinking. Okay?” Will lowered his voice and squeezed Frankie’s shoulders in support. All Frankie could do was nod and hope he was right.


	3. Renegade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frankie (and the rest of the boys) goes and gets his girl back. I won’t say anything else because I know y'all have been waiting.

Apparently this hell hole of a jungle insisted on being true to its word. Ever since they had left the bar it had been pouring down rain. Large torrents of water cascaded from the dark sky like the dump bucket at the local water park crashing down on a bunch of screaming kids. Unsurprisingly, Frankie had not slept at all. He tossed and turned on his cot in their hostel, spending the majority of the night staring at the ceiling, listening to Benny snore, and thinking about you.

A few times he gave up his restless dance and got up to crack the window and light a cigarette. Pope was already up as well, unable to rest for the same reasons Frankie couldn’t, and he held out a smoke and a lighter to him in silence.

“Thanks,” Frankie said, quietly and Pope nodded. The two of them didn’t speak. What was there to say? He offered his presence and a cigarette as an apology and Frankie took it. That’s just how they had always operated, with an unspoken language of knowing that even if they were pissed at each other, there was no one else they would rather have watching their six.

The watch on Pope’s wrist beeped quietly and he pressed the button, nodding to Frankie that it was time to head out. Frankie returned the gesture, taking another long drag of his smoke as Pope started to wake the others. He stared up at the dark sky and wished there was some way to tell you that he was coming for you. Whatever was happening, whatever state you were in, just hold out a little longer.

The thickness of the canopy of leaves on Lorea’s property helped with the rain. The large drops pat on the trees with soft thuds as the men took up their positions from yesterday and started in towards the mansion. Only this time, each of them was geared up, locked and loaded. Frankie was careful of his steps not because of noise this time, but because of the mud. The sheer amount of water that the forest floor had received overnight had flooded every tiny creek bed, and eroded enough earth that even the smallest hill was just an avalanche of silt. His shirt was already stuck to his body, protected only by his Kevlar and the pack slung over his back.

Pope turned his hat around backwards as he took up his sniping position on the hill and looked through his scope. Frankie moved quietly through the trees towards the gate and Will flanked him, each lowering their guns to start snipping the chain link fence with their bolt cutters. Benny mirrored Pope’s sniper stance from the East side and kept a careful eye poised on the two men below working on the gate.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing they’re so devout,” Benny said flatly through the com piece. “My dad used to say when it’s raining, that means god didn’t need us in church today.”

Will chuckled and shook his head, finishing up clipping the fence and putting the bolt cutters back in his backpack. “Yeah, he also said you go to heaven for the climate, and hell for the company.”

“Actually I think Mark twain said that, shithead.” His brother retorted as he adjusted his scope and checked on Frankie’s progress with the fence.

“Alright, keep the radio clear. Stay awake and look alive.” Tom’s voice came through everyone’s ears, his obviously irritated tone making Frankie roll his eyes. “How many is that, getting in, Fish? Count it.”

Frankie looked up as he finished cutting and watched the family pile in the car adorned in their Sunday best and umbrellas. “Seven getting in the van,” he answered Tom.

“Anybody see Lorea?” Pope asked.

“Negative. Never saw him come out.” Will walked carefully back to his spot perpendicular to the road that led out of the fortress. He ducked behind a tree as the cars drove passed him down the gravel road. “Wife and two kids are with a single driver–the family has left the building. We’re clear.”

They all waited in silence as the family vans disappeared and another unmarked, black car rounded the corner in their place. Pope’s informant had been true to her word and was here to deliver the day’s round of Lorea’s money like she didn’t know that he was about to be robbed blind. The gates opened slowly and she drove right through. She had a beat up four door hitched to the van so she could drive away and leave them the extra van, just like Pope had asked.

“Damn Pope, your girlfriend is a keeper. She got us that second van.” Benny said, looking through his scope and adjusting the settings. “Punctual, smart, and brave as shit–just how you like ‘em.”

Pope ignored his quip about the informant and asked, “Has anyone seen any sign of (Y/N)?”

“Negative.” Frankie said flatly, squeezing the com button clipped to the inside of his shirt. His eyes diligently searched each window of the upper floor, desperate for even the smallest sign that you were inside and alive. But he saw nothing.

“Informant is in,” Benny cut through the silence. “Making the handoff now.”

“Here we go,” Tom raised up off of his knees and started to move. “Ben, you’re first hit. With this rain the guards are gonna be inside. Watch your angles–silence is key.”

“Roger.”

Will and Frankie started walking toward the back of the mansion, matching each other’s strides as they let Pope take point in front of them through the tall grasses. Each man had their semi-automatic rifle level with their eyes, balanced against their chest as they strained their ears and vision to see anything in this fucking rain. Frankie ducked his head under the family’s clothes line as they entered the backyard and waited for Pope to give them a hand signal.

To an outsider, this would have looked like any normal family’s patio. A children’s sized soccer goal and a few balls were off to the side, a grill and a white iron table and chairs sat waiting for summer time barbeques. And only a prick like Lorea would subject his family to his dealings out here in the middle of nowhere. Frankie hoped with everything he had that the man in question was inside, because he couldn’t wait to get his hands on him.

“Steady.” Pope said over the com and motioned that he was going in the side patio door, and that the other two should go in through the double doors.

“Alright,” Will nodded, looking at Frankie and motioning him to take the lead. “We’re going in.”

The house was dark. Will checked the windows but it didn’t offer much insight before they crossed the threshold. Most of the glass had been covered with newspaper, bleached from the sun and offering little to help with what he could only imagine was Lorea’s paranoia. A lot of the furniture was covered in sheets and protective cloth like they had just moved in or were getting ready to move out–either way, it wasn’t very homey.

Pope nodded as he crossed paths with the two of them from the side door, taking note of the guard watching soccer in the living room at such a volume that suggested he was absolutely hard of hearing. But that sure made sneaking passed him easier.

Will and Frankie headed to the kitchen. The fridge door was open and a faceless man was rifling through the contents. Frankie let Will take point, keeping his gun raised as the blond slung his over his shoulder and waited for the guard to shut the fridge. As soon as he did, he was on him with a swift punch to the face. Will twisted the man around and wrapped his bicep around his neck, putting him in a sleeper hold, squeezing tighter as the man struggled, ultimately falling unconscious and sliding to the floor.

Frankie white knuckled his gun as he saw that it was the smaller guard from the day before–the one who had called you merchandise. He hesitated, but shook it off as Will tossed him a zip tie and they secured the man’s wrists and ankles before stowing him on the other side of the counter.

“Front gate secured,” Benny said over the com from outside the house.

“One guard secured in the kitchen,” Frankie answered as they crossed back into the foyer.

“Ben come to the house,” Tom ordered from his place on the rooftop balcony

“Copy that.”

Will followed Frankie into the next room as they looked across the foyer at Pope. The guard who had previously been watching his ridiculously loud television was nowhere to be seen. Benny’s shadow appeared in front of the frosted glass of the French double doors and Pope held up a fist that he hoped he would be able to see.

“I’m at the front door.”

“Hold Benny, hold,” Pope responded, keeping his fist raised.

“Threat in the TV room is gone,” Frankie said, keeping his voice calm and factual, letting Benny know the reason he was continuing to stand in the rain.

All three men looked up as the missing guard came down the staircase. Frankie’s eyes narrowed as he realized who the guard in question was. He remembered the clear image of his disgusting hands over your mouth, hurting you, restraining you, and ultimately striking you–bitch. muzzle. cunt. His heart hammered in his chest and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears and he did the only thing he could think of. With an echo through the high ceiling entryway, he squeezed the trigger and fired, hitting the bald guard in the kneecap and sending him to the ground with a thud and a yell.

“What’s going on in there??” Benny said over the com and Pope lowered his fist.

“All clear Benny. Eyes out for Lorea–”

“Well, he sure as fuck heard us now!” Will growled, dropping to his knee and pulling the zip ties and electrical tape from his pack. He spared a glare at Frankie as he got to work but Frankie felt no remorse. If he didn’t need to find you, he would have shot the bastard a second time.

Will wrapped the black tape around the guys mouth to muffle his painful screams as Frankie pulled the zip tie tightly around his ankles–perhaps a little tighter than was necessary. The three of them looked up as Benny came in the front door and Pope pointed to the open utility closet at the left of the stairs.

“Set the charges for the security room. I want those cameras offline now! It’s just Lorea and I do not want him to know our positions.” Pope took a couple of stairs up and raised his rifle back to balance on his shoulder as he looked around the corner.

“What was the fuck was that? Who shot first?” Tom hissed through the com and they looked at Frankie.

“We had to shoot the third guard in the leg.” Ben answered as he started pulling wires out of the cameras and lining the inside with a small amount of explosive, wetting his fingers with his tongue. “Taking him to the kitchen as we speak.” He looked pointedly at Will and Frankie. It made Frankie realize that, unlike Tom, none of them would blame him for the shot, but they had to stay focused and keep moving.

They picked up the still grunting and thrashing guard and carried him into the other room and Benny turned his head and said with a grin, “Fire in the hole.”

The camera system fuse sparked and popped like a line of firecrackers and all at once every camera in the compound went dark.

The rest of them let Frankie and Pope take the lead as they walked up the stairs. Both men shoulder to shoulder as they aimed down the sight of their guns and looked in each open door that led to a room, hoping that you would be there. With each empty room Frankie’s heart beat harder. He found it more difficult to breathe every time he swept the area and you weren’t there. Sweat dripped off his brow, both from the humidity in the house and the fear of the possibility that you were no longer in the house at all.

The two of them came to the last closed doors in the hallway and they looked at each other.

“You take right, I’ll take left?” Pope offered and Frankie nodded wordlessly.

“I got your six,” Will said behind them both as Tom and Benny moved to take the double doors that led to Lorea’s office.

Frankie tried to calm his hands as he took one off of his gun to open the door. The room was dark and cluttered, a nice set of bay windows being the only light as rain pounded against the glass. Frankie swept the room slowly, using the barrel of his rifle as a guide for his eyes as they adjusted to the low light. He lowered his gun slowly as he laid eyes on you, for even in shadows he knew it had to be you.

“(Y/n)..” he breathed out, dropping his rifle and backpack to the floor with a thud. Nothing in the house mattered anymore, not Lorea, not the Narcos money–even if Will wasn’t watching his back, he would have dropped everything he was carrying to get to you faster.

You had heard footsteps and a gunshot long before Frankie hit the door. Not that any of the warning sounds mattered because you were basically a sitting duck, and you had been for almost twenty-four hours. Time was irrelevant though as the blindfold around your eyes made everything dark at all hours of the day. As the footsteps got closer you clenched your fists and pulled against the zip ties that held you against the straight back chair. A whimper fell around the gag that was biting into your cheeks and as a hand touched each of your arms, you let out a muffled scream.

The sound alone felt like someone was ripping Frankie’s heart out with his own hunting knife. He released you like you had burned him and quickly went for your blindfold first so you could see it was him, not Lorea, not his thugs…him.

“(Y/n)! Baby, stop–it’s me, it’s me!” He raised his voice to be heard over your fear and you froze.

Blinking slowly, your eyes adjusted to the light as he came into focus in front of you. Frankie. Your Frankie. Frankie Morales was squatting in front of you, looking up at your face with a mixture of elation and worry.

His large but gentle hands reached up and, careful of your hair, slipped the cloth gag out of your mouth and let it drop to the floor.

“Cat?” You rasped weakly, the one word catching in your throat like a stone. Your mouth hurt and felt like it was full of paste, dry and clammy at the same time.

“Yeah,” he laughed softly in relief as if hearing your voice made you more real. “Hold on, doll.” He said, pulling his knife out of the sheath on his boot and cutting through the restraints on your ankles before moving up to each wrist. The plastic snapped easily under the blade and your body felt like it’s entire existence gave a sigh as the blood flow resumed to those areas.

Before you could stop yourself, you crumbled off of the chair and against his chest, but he was expecting it. He knew you better than anyone and like always, it was as if he could read your thoughts. Your sobs came easier than you would have liked, but they were impossible to fight.

Frankie’s arms wrapped around your body like they had a thousand times before. One hand went to your hair and he looked over his shoulder to Will, “Get Pope.” His words were as quiet as he could keep them while still allowing the other man to hear him over your tears.

“Of course,” Will nodded, leaving the room at a jog.

“Santi’s here?” You managed to choke out and you felt him nod.

“You bet,” he tightened his grip on you, clearing the emotion out of his own throat. “Who do you think called in the calvary?”

The fact that your brother had been the one to track you down was not surprising in the slightest. You had hoped against all odds that the moment you didn’t show up to meet him in the city, he would have allowed his paranoia to go into full force. But you had no idea that it meant he would rally a rescue posse. It made sense–there was no way he would be able to take the mansion solo, but knowing that all of his guys, the guys that you considered part of the Garcia family, had dropped everything to help him find you made your chest tight. The tears started again and you gripped Frankie’s Kevlar vest, too tired to fight them.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling you back against him. “I got you. You’re safe now–we’re gonna get out of here.”

You nodded and looked back up at him. Two years. Two years and not a damn thing had changed about the man in front of you. He still wore a ball cap that you were certain you had seen before, his thick, dark hair curled out from under it and you knew if the hat came off it would be sticking out in every direction. Your fingers itched to touch it, to touch him, any part of him that wasn’t the tactical gear that covered the outside of his body. The scruff at the sides of his jaw had just a touch of gray, now that was new, but then again neither of you were kids anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself as you touched the edge of his beard with the tips of your fingers. He was here. He was real. And despite the distance and the time between your last encounter, he had come for you.

“Can I kiss you?” Frankie choked out in the empty room as if he held the thought in any longer he was going to burst. His chest ached, and his jaw hurt from clenching his entire body to keep his own tears at bay. He didn’t need to add his own shit on top of your distress, and he shouldn’t have asked for such an intimate act after just untying you from a fucking chair. But he heard Will’s voice promising him that he would get to tell you everything he had ever meant to since you met.

“Yes, yes,” you nodded, a few more tears slipping down your cheeks.

He cupped your face and looked at you like he had never seen you before. Your cheek was bruised from the day before, the purple edges starting to turn yellow but the majority not the center remained a painful looking black. Your lip was swollen, very obviously cut open and recently dried by something forceful and crass that should have never been allowed to touch you in the first place. The corners of your mouth were irritated and chapped from the gag and from screaming, another image that he didn’t want either of you to have to remember after today.

He shouldn’t kiss you, he shouldn’t entertain such a self indulgent act when you were this badly hurt, but you didn’t stop him. If he was a bigger man, he would have stopped himself, but the thought vanished as he met your eyes. Those soft, kind, eyes that he wanted to lose himself in were so tired, red with tears, and downright broken. If Lorea was still in this house…he would skin him alive.

His lips were a feather’s touch against your own and you swallowed the whimper that threatened to leave your mouth because you knew such a noise would gut him. You wanted to hold him close and never let him go again. Suddenly all of the excuses you had ever had for settling down with Frankie Morales were bullshit. You allowed your arms to be pinned against his chest as he held you close and you closed your eyes. He smelled like rain and sweat but under that he smelled like how you remembered, like campfire and earth.

Not wanting to cause you any discomfort, he allowed himself one last quiet peck before nosing your cheek and exhaling softly.

“Take me home, Frankie,” you breathed against his face, your voice shaking despite your efforts. “I just want to go home.”

He nodded against you and you felt his grip tighten. “You got it. We’re going home.”

“(Y/n)?,” Pope said as he broke the threshold of the room and laid eyes on you and Frankie. “Oh, gracias a Dios,” he said, lowering his voice as he crossed the room and fell to his knees with a graceful thud. Frankie relinquished his hold on you so the other man could gather you up into his arms.

You hugged him back as tightly as you could, but nothing prepared you for the grip he engulfed you in and the grimace on your face made Will speak up. “Easy, man, she’s seen better days,” he called from his position in the doorway and it made you smile.

“Are you hurt? What did they do?” Pope said, sitting back on his heels and holding you at arm’s length to see your injuries.

“I’m okay,” you tried to sound reassuring. “Sore, but okay.”

“Did you have any idea why they wanted your crew?” Will asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I don’t. I’ve been in this room since I got here. I know they change who guards the door, but that’s it.” You put a hand on Frankie’s leg to steady yourself and his hand found the small of your back. Even sitting on the floor, you felt weak, you were so tired.

For two days the only human contact you had was with a select few of Lorea’s men. With a shift change, they gave you water, led you to the bathroom, and then redid the zip ties on your hands and feet. The blindfold stayed on through everything and they had strict orders to keep their hands to themselves and not rough you up too much. You weren’t stupid–Journalists made good ransom chits, especially American, female ones.

“Is there any of your crew left?” Will asked and you shook your head.

“They killed them, oh god,” your hands started to shake again and your breath caught as you remembered the men kneeling in the tennis courts of the mansion, landing in a puddle of blood and darker things with each bang of a gun. “They’re dead–it’s just me.”

Santiago pulled you back against him and put his chin on top of your hair. “It’s okay. Stop. Nothing you did would have stopped it. Your job was to survive, remember?”

You nodded, not really wanting one of your brother’s trademark military pep-talks. You knew he was right, what else could you have done? But that thought didn’t do anything to change the bile in your stomach that made you want to throw up.their coms crackled to life, thankfully drawing yourself out of your own thoughts.

“Fish? You got eyes on (y/n)?” Benny’s voice came over the radio and you looked at Will who gave you a wink. Of course he had brought his little brother on the rescue mission.

Frankie reached up and clicked the button pinned to the collar of his shirt. “Yeah we got her. She’s okay.”

“Good,” Tom’s voice crackled back. “Now, everyone to the upstairs office. We got a problem.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed, getting up and letting go of your arms so Frankie could take over. “Take your time,” he said to you as your knees wobbled and Frankie hooked his arm around your waist.

“I got her,” the other man said, nodding his head in the direction of the door. “Go see what’s wrong.”

Pope hesitated, taking another glance at you before nodding his thanks to Frankie and Will. The blond moved to the side, but kept his post of guarding the door so Frankie could give you his full attention. He started unbuckling his bulletproof vest and you looked at him in confusion. He tossed his backpack next to his gun on the floor, clearly intent on getting to the vest itself.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna put this on,” he said flatly, pulling the Kevlar over his head in one fluid motion.

“Frankie, you need that,” you tried to protest but he shook his head.

“Arms up,” he said firmly and you obeyed in silence. He was gentle as he pulled it over your head and tightened the first strap on your side. He clipped the buckle and moved to the next one, making sure the material hugged you tightly and was secure. As much as you wanted to argue, the look on his face made you bite your tongue. His sole mission was to get you would of that mansion alive by whatever means necessary.

His handsome face was much too serious and you couldn’t help putting your hand on his cheek as he leaned down towards your chest to finish the last buckle around your back. The small smile you received was worth the action. He pulled a handgun from the back of his belt and held it in his palm.

“Safety,” he said pointing to the small black dot under the magazine. He clicked it up and the dot showed the smallest flash of orange paint underneath. “On.”

“I know how to handle a glock, Cat,” you said quietly and he grinned.

“Just making sure,” he raised his hands in playful defense as he let the full weight of the gun transfer to your own hand. “I know it’s not the beretta.”

You blushed and shook your head as you holstered the gun in the waistband of your jeans. You suddenly wished you had the beretta that was sitting useless in the nightstand beside your bed. Santiago had purchased it before he left back for Columbia and he entrusted Frankie to teach you how to use it. And the man in front of you had stayed true to his word.

“Let’s keep moving,” Will broke the silence between the two of you and nodded his head down the hall.

Frankie agreed with a nod of his own and started to walk towards the door only to stop and hold his hand slightly behind him. You crossed the gap and gripped it tightly, something you had done a thousand times, felt as wonderful as it had years ago. “Stay with me,” he said gently and you nodded. He knew it was an unnecessary request, because right now, he couldn’t think of a single thing that would make him let you out of his sight.


	4. Crazy On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary/Author’s Note: The mission starts to go off the rails as a certain someone starts to get a taste of greed. Frankie deals with the dark parts of his soul and worries how you’ll react to seeing such things. (Thank you so much for your support of me and this fic. Part I became my first fic to reach 300 notes and I cannot believe it was a Frankie fic, but he deserves the love.)

Frankie's hand in yours was like an anchor keeping you from giving in to the anxiety bubbling up inside your gut. They should have been wanting to leave the house, not going up another flight of stairs deeper into the mansion. The tension in the back of Frankie's shoulders was palpable and you wanted to reach out and put your hand in the middle of his back. He glanced over his shoulder at you and you tried your best to give him a reassuring smile. 

"What's going on, Tom?" Frankie asked as the two of you cleared the threshold of the office and looked around. 

Lorea's office was larger than any of the bedrooms had been. Expensive black oak bookshelves were on each wall and they matched the leather furniture and dark polished desk. The rain continued to pound against the windows and as a crack of thunder rattled the glass panels, you gripped Frankie's hand tightly. He turned and pulled you against his side as he leaned against one of the side tables. Your shoulders didn't relax however until you felt his nose against your hair, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

"We got nothin," Will hooked his fingers in the front of his vest. "This guy's a ghost."

"What?" Frankie looked around as Benny stormed out of the adjacent room. 

"The fuck!?" He cursed as he tossed two fistfuls of limp duffle bags on the ground. "Nothing but empty bags!"

"And Lorea? Pope?" Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at your brother like a disappointed father. Everyone seemed to take a moment and look at Pope as he stared blankly at the empty bags on the ground at his feet.

"He's gone. With the money." Will shrugged.

"Your girl gave us up, Pope." Frankie said as he raised his head from your hair and looked at his friend. "We gotta get the fuck out of here."

Pope took his hat off and squeezed the bill between his hands as he looked around worriedly. "No, no, no," he shook his head and ran a hand down his face before cursing. "No, no--fuck."

"Wait--" You interrupted, moving slightly away from the shelter of Frankie's body so they could hear you. "It might be still here."

"What do you mean, baby?" Frankie asked, keeping his hand in the small of your back and raising an eyebrow in question.

"Before," you swallowed hard and glanced at Tom before looking back to your brother. "Before they put me in the spare bedroom--they were painting. So much paint. All through the night."

"What does that matter?" Tom asked curtly.

Pope's eyes widened slightly as he put his hat back on backwards and pointed at you. "Shit--" he looked back at Tom. "What does that smell like to you?" His nostrils flared and he started looking around on the floor.

"Like a serious fuck up, man," Frankie bit his lip and Benny chuckled. 

"No, she's right," Pope pointed to the wall nearest to him, and then to the cans of paint that were piled just outside the door. "It's fucking paint."

All of the men looked at the walls and took note for the first time of the crisp shine that lay on the fresh top coat. Parts of the room still looked wet to the naked eye, and rolls of painter's tape lay in various forgotten places on the floor and along the baseboards.

"The house is the safe," Tom whispered as he lowered his gun and moved away from where he was leaning on the desk. "The house is the fucking safe."

"The house is the safe," Pope nodded as a smile broke out on his face. He turned and crossed the few feet to you, putting his hands on the sides of your face and kissing you on the forehead. "You're a fucking genius, hermana." 

Pope walked towards the closest wall and pulled out his hunting knife. He kept it sheathed and used the blunt handle to start hitting. The drywall was thin, and crumbled easily under the force in a dusting of white and chunks of paint and insulation. Just like you all had concluded each section of the wall was filled with stacks upon stacks of bundles of cash. Pope picked up a bundle and turned around slowly to show it to the others--a large grin plastered on his face.

"Holy shit," Benny moved to a wall opposite of Pope and started hitting the drywall with his elbow, over and over, until he had a wall big enough to start pulling the sheet rock down with his hands. "Will! Help me, man!"

Will joined his brother as they slid the large table to the side and took down the giant oil painting that covered most of the wall. Each of them started ripping and soon bundles of money were falling into the floor from the force of their search.

"Holy shit!" Benny said again. 

Each of them laughed and cursed, hooped and hollered, as they broke down each individual wall and revealed the cash underneath. Frankie made sure you stepped back before he took out his own knife and started helping.

"We need bags," Pope called.

"I got it," Will nodded, tossing a couple of the duffles to them.

"Keep 'em coming, man!" Benny said, catching the canvas and dropping to his knees to start shoveling hundred dollar bills into the bags. 

Frankie paused for a moment and looked at Pope with a serious look on his face. "What's wrong, Fish?" Pope asked.

"If the money’s still here, it means he’s still here." Frankie said, glancing back at you before back to the other man.

He was right. It made you look over your shoulder cautiously for any sign of the narcos lurking in the shadows. However, no one was in the room except the six of you. 

"He's gone man!" Benny called as he toppled one of the armchairs away from the wall and got to work on an untouched part of the room. "There's more over here!"

"Back wall, too!" Will called.

"Concentrate boys," Tom snarled, shoving fistfulls of cash bundles into a bag of his own. "How much time we got??"

"Eight minutes!" The Miller brothers said in unison from the opposite side of the room. 

They were all panting with the exertion of breaking the sides of the house and hustling to get as much of the stash into the duffle bags as they could, tossing them into the threshold of the office once they were zipped up and ready to go. The uneasy feeling was back in your stomach and you moved back over to Frankie's side and put your hand on his arm. "Cat--" you started to whisper but Tom yelled over you.

"Start getting this shit down to the van," he barked, tossing another bag onto the pile. "Keep your eyes open, do you hear me?"

Frankie looked at you with eyes so gentle it made your heart ache. It had been so long and yet with him standing in front of you it was as if he had spent the night in your bed just days ago. Without speaking, it was as if he understood what you were trying to tell him. You wanted to get the hell out of that mansion--money be damned. 

"We'll do it," Frankie spoke up, breaking your gaze to look at Tom. "(Y/n) and I will go get the van and start loading up. We need to go."

"Good plan," Will nodded, handing his bag off to you instead of tossing it, with a reassuring smile.

"I can tell you one thing man," Pope, laughed as he and Tom continued to use both hands to shovel money onto the floor. "You can tell your girls they can stop studying, because Daddy's going to buy their way into Harvard!"

"Yeah, bitches!" Benny said with another cackle.

Frankie tossed another bag over his shoulder and made sure you were with him before moving out of the office and down the steps. Will was close on your heels as he passed Frankie and said, "I'll go get the van."

"Be careful," Frankie nodded.

The two of you made it to the breezeway that framed the driveway in place of a garage. The cool air felt good on your skin and the rain smelled refreshing as you stood in a spot that it hadn't managed to blow in on. Getting out of that house felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders and with the relaxation came the ache of your tired muscles. Frankie told you to stay put and he made a couple more trips as they continued to toss him bags of money down the staircase. He was not subtle in the fact that you were never out of his sight for more than a handful of seconds. Each time he came back to throw more bags onto the pile, he touched your arm as if to reassure himself that you were real.

Will backed the van up and as soon as it got into position, Frankie hit the back doors with the palm of his hand, signaling a stop. He threw open the double doors and started loading.

"You guys stay here," Will said after he hopped out of the driver's side. "Get it loaded up and Benny and I will do the running."

"Sounds good." Frankie nodded and kept moving, working methodically to get as much into the back as was possible. It was like a game of real life Tetris. 

You handed him bag after bag, finally speaking up as the van started to become full to the brim. "Cat--" you started again and he paused to look at you. "We need to go. Please."

It was the 'please' that got him. The look in your eyes that said if you spent another minute in this god forsaken mansion, it would break you. You had watched your crew die, you had been manhandled, tied up, and left alone. And now that he had come to the rescue, you needed as much distance between yourself and this place as humanly possible. His eyes softened and crinkled lightly around the edges, lines that hadn't been there two years ago but that you suddenly found endearing. 

"Okay," he nodded. "Okay, we're going. Come on, baby." He slammed the doors shut as he tossed the last bag in and grabbed your hand like he had before. 

The two of you walked back up the stairs at a hurried pace and when you walked back into the office you weren't prepared for what you saw. Between Pope and Tom, they had gotten the entire wall torn down and from ceiling to floor, stacked within the studs that made the frame of the house, was nothing but bundles and bundles of cash. Benny had moved into the hall just outside of the office and on a hunch, started hammering at another wall. 

"There's more over here!" He called back to the others.

Frankie looked in the hall, and in the bedroom you had been tied up in, noting that each wall had a fresh coat of paint just like in Lorea's office. "It's the whole fucking house--fuck--"

"What is it, Fish?"

"The van's full man," Frankie urged him, looking at the rest of the guys in the office. 

"It's all good," Will nodded, stopping his task of filling another bag. "We gotta go." 

"Holy shit, this is a fuck ton of money," Benny said, grabbing another full bag and starting the trek down the stairs. 

"We need to go," Frankie repeated what Will announced and Pope nodded in agreement. The only one who didn't move towards the door was Tom.

"We got time a couple more loads," he mumbled as he continued to hack away at a new wall with his machete. 

Frankie narrowed his gaze on the man and glared at the back of his head. "What the hell are you doing? Stop digging more out we have all this to deal with!" He gestured to the floor that was littered with already packed bags and you tightened your grip on his hand. The anger building in his voice was undeniable.

"I said, just a couple more loads!" Tom argued without turning around and even looking at the others. 

You waited for Frankie to retort but Will beat him to it, kicking one of the chairs out of his way and pointing at Tom. "You know in the ten years I've been working with you Tom, you have never missed a hard out!"

"We need to go!" Benny called from the stairs and Tom whipped around in anger. 

"Listen to me! I gave us a fifteen minute cushion," he gestured out the window to the driveway. "That's twelve minutes to the church, a forty minute service, and twelve minutes back. Add five minutes to load in and out of the van and we can subtract seven and beat them to the exit route." He slammed his hand against the wall and raised his voice another level. "We will be fine! Alright? God dammit, look at all this!" He waved his arms around the room and Frankie shook his head. 

"Fuck this!" He snarled and gripped your hand to start walking you down the hall. 

"Fish is right," Will said, working to keep his voice calm and even to counteract Tom's. "Time’s up. We gotta go."

"Wait--" Pope finally spoke up and Frankie stopped in the hall to look back at him. 

"Santi--" you said, shaking your head. Surely he didn't agree with Tom. 

"I want one more sweep for Lorea--," he said, looking pointedly at you. "Alright? (Y/n)?" He knew you were scared, he knew they needed to leave, but three years of hunting this bastard and if he didn't do one more search of the house, he would always wonder what if. "And then we burn it all down."

Against his better judgement, Frankie nodded in agreement and rubbed his forehead. "Fine. (Y/n) and I will get these last ones down there, and you call when you're ready to light it up. But you better fucking hustle."

Will and Tom pulled themselves away from the walls and moved down the hall to the master bedroom. Pope started to follow and you let go of Frankie to grab his arm instead. 

"Don't do this. Please. We need to go, now." You begged and looked him in the eyes.

"I have to look one more time," he said as gently as he could as he gripped your arm in return. "He has killed so many people. I have never been this close before--it ends now."

"Santiago--" you said, using his full name in a tone you both knew sounded like your mother.

"Go with Frankie," he nodded to the man at your right. "Go downstairs and get ready to--"

"GET DOWN!" 

Tom's voice rang out from the bedroom at the end of the hall and the doorway erupted in an ear shattering blast of automatic fire and flashing lights. Frankie slammed you up against the wall and covered you with his body, bracing his forearms over your head. You made a noise as your back hit the drywall but you knew he didn't mean it--his only goal was to protect you, even though you were the one wearing the kevlar. The action made you remember just how much bigger he was than you as your world went dark and all you felt was the solid plane of his chest and cotton button up. 

There was yelling, more gunfire, you heard Pope yell rapidly in his native tongue and Will said something over the bullets before everything went silent. 

"What the hell are we shooting at?!" Frankie called above your head, loud enough that his voice carried into the bedroom. He looked down at you against his chest, panting hard as his heart raced. “You okay?” he whispered and you nodded. You were so tired of the sound of gunfire.

"Target down!" Tom called back and it made Frankie move back and let you breathe once again. 

The two of you hurried into the bedroom and you gasped as Frankie put his arm out to keep you safely behind him. 

Pope stood in the doorway of a secret safe room that had been hidden behind a large armoire. In the entrance to the hiding space lay Lorea in a pool of his own blood, with a bullet dead center in the middle of his forehead. Call it a hunch, but you knew your brother had made that hell of a shot. Pope had his gun pointed at the unmoving body and the veins in his arms flexed as he readjusted his grip on the weapon. His body went still before he pulled the trigger again, then again, over and over, emptying the entire clip into Lorea's head. Once the narcos was nothing more than a pile of blood and brain matter the gun clicked empty and Pope lowered his arms, hitting the release on the magazine and letting it fall to the floor. 

Frankie approached him slowly and moved his own rifle to one hand so he could touch his friend on the shoulder. "You got him, man."

"He's dead." Pope said flatly and Frankie nodded.

"Good."

A groan came from the other side of the room as Will dropped to one knee with a thud. Everyone turned as they watched the blonde put a hand to his side and pull it back with his own blood painted across his fingers. 

"I'm hit." He grunted, tossing his rifle to the side and working on the straps of his gear. 

You hurried to his side as Tom mirrored your movements and the two of you flanked the man on the ground.

"Where?" Tom said.

"Left side." Will groaned as you helped him lay flat on the ground with his head resting against his backpack.

"Help me get this off, Tom," you said firmly, pulling at the straps of his kevlar that had ridden up just enough to let the bullet go through his lower love handle. You raised up Will's shirt and inspected the wound as warm blood slid down your hand and over your wrist before dripping to the floor. The man hissed as you probbed the wound. "It went straight through."

"Thank fuck," Tom said, looking up as Pope rummaged through his bag and handed you his clot kit. 

"Get it on him, and then we gotta go."

"I'm okay. I'm okay," Will nodded as Pope took Tom's place on his opposite side. Tom and Frankie aimed both of their guns at the door as they heard footsteps. "I told you this was a stupid idea." Will groaned. 

"Yeah, you sure did," Pope chuckled, helping you wrap the stretchy material around his waist and apply pressure. 

Benny came back in and the two guarding the door quickly aimed their guns at the ground. "Church is out--they're back...shit." His eyes got wide as he laid sight on his brother and the blood all over your hands.

"The family is here?" Frankie asked and Benny shook his head.

"No, the first shift of guards."

Once you secured the clotting cloth, Will thanked you with a grip of your arm and a smile that reached his kind, blue eyes. You stood and allowed Benny to take your spot, helping him get his kit back on and slowly make it to his feet. They hadn't brought a stretcher and they definitely couldn't carry him out of here, but the blonde kept repeating that he could make it. 

"Okay, new plan," Pope looked out the window, watching the guards pull up to the house. "we each grab a backpack of cash and we go out through the jungle and around."

"No, no way," Will shook his head and groaned as he got all the way up onto his feet. 

"We are getting Ironhead home safe!" Tom pointed at the blond. "Not trekking him through the jungle. And we are not leaving them any of this fucking money!"

Frankie felt his hands ball into fists as he took a step towards Tom but Pope blocked him with his arm and you took the hint to go stand by him. 

"Right…" Pope said cautiously with a desperate look on his face--talking to Tom like the ticking time bomb that he was. "So, we burn it all down and go."

"There is about a hundred million dollars down there in that van," Tom pointed to the hall. "We are going out the front. We need to hunt and shoot quickly. Call out your kills--I don't want any fucking surprises!"

There was a moment of silence as the two men clearly struggled for who was calling the shots. You tried to breathe evenly as you watched the vein pop in your brother's neck as he stared down Tom. Tom had always been your least favorite of your brother's squad. His hotheaded manner and stubbornness always seemed to get him, and anyone else in his path, in more trouble than they should have. But you stayed next to Frankie and let Pope think this one out.

"We had two objectives--Lorea and (Y/n). Now, I am not putting my sister or Ironhead in more danger for some fucking narcos money."

"Both of them will be in more danger if we drag our sorry asses through that jungle," Tom stepped closer to the other man. "You brought me here to lead--now, I'm not asking, we're not taking a vote, I'm telling you...we're leaving through the front."

The two of them continued to stare at one another before Pope finally backed down with a nod and your stomach dropped to the floor. "Alright."

"Let's get it done," Will said, breathing heavily as he adjusted his rifle in his hands. "Quick and clean. Like always."

"Pope and Frankie, you take (y/n) and go out that way and down through the kitchen. Millers down the front. I'll hang back and keep an eye out--here we go fellas." Tom accentuated each order with a point and gesture of his arm and Frankie looked down at you.

"Get your gun out," he said, lowering his voice as you all started to move in the directions you were told. "Don't shoot first--unless necessary."

"Got it," you nodded, gripping the glock tighter than was needed to keep your hands from shaking. 

You moved swiftly and with purpose. Taking two steps to Frankie's one as you moved down the stairs and through the living room. A short spatter of bullets sounded from the dining room and shortly after, you heard Will's voice through the com on Frankie's ear. "That's two down in the front hall."

The two of you turned the corner and Frankie squeezed the trigger, firing twice into the chest of a guard who crossed his path. "That's three."

Another round of shots and Pope's voice came next, "That's four."

"Back to the main gate. They dropped more guys out there."

Frankie clicked his com, "I'm going out through the kitchen and grabbing the van."

"The kitchen is the wrong way, what are you on about Fish?" Tom's voice came over, confused and irritated.

"I got something I gotta do." He said back and turned to you behind him. "Stay here."

"What??" You said, your voice a little higher than you would have liked it to be.

"I need you to stay here." He tried to be reassuring but your heart started hammering in your chest and the thought of being alone again in this place. The idea of him leaving you for any reason made it even worse. 

"Don't leave me," you shook your head. The fear on your face must have been more evident than you thought because looking at you made him hesitate. 

"You promise that no matter what happens in the next few minutes, you'll do as I say?" He asked and your fear turned increasingly into a mixture of panic. 

"Frankie--"

"Promise me, (y/n)." He said flatly, he was not negotiating.

You nodded, adding in a meek voice, "I promise."

He led the way into the kitchen, his rifle was slung over his shoulder by the strap as he took out another handgun from the holster at his side. The appliances were incredibly outdated but the creamy butter-yellow walls and white cabinets easily made the kitchen the brightest room in the desolate house. You watched Frankie walk around the kitchen island, his gun sweeping the area as he moved into the heart of the room. 

Two men lay on the tile floor, bound and gagged, and you knew exactly who they were. They were two of Lorea's head guards, the ones that shoved you in the van in the middle of the city, the one that hit you, tied you up--and Frankie knew it too. 

He raised his gun and one of the men started to yell around the black electrical tape over his mouth, thrashing his head back and forth wildly. You felt like you were going to be sick. 

"Frankie…" you said, standing next to him and touching his side. 

He lowered the gun ever so slightly and looked at you. "Remember the deal? Whatever I say, right?"

Bile rose in your throat as you saw the hardened look in the eyes of one of the kindest men you have ever known. Those normally warm, coffee-colored eyes were almost black as he looked at you with a locked jaw and unwavering stance. Seeing such emotion in him and how palpable it felt around his aura hurt more than you ever thought it could. Tears burned in the back of your throat as you nodded. You weren't crying for the men on the floor, you were crying to the soul of the man you loved. 

He reached his free arm out and drew you against the shelter of the side of his body. He could feel you tremble against him as you grabbed onto his shirt like the lifeline that it was. 

"Close your eyes and cover your ears," he said, flatly and when he felt you let go of him to do so, he pulled the trigger. 

One shot. Muzzle. Bitch. Two shots. Merchandise. Cunt. 

Two clean shots, echoing in the empty kitchen, hit both of them directly in the center of the forehead. No mistake, no chance, just dead. Frankie felt you jolt against him with each bang and no matter how much he wanted the men at his feet to suffer the way you had suffered, he wouldn't risk making you feel differently about him. The idea that the rage bubbling in his gut could make you look at him in fear was enough to keep his emotions in check. He had done what he needed to do. They would never lay hands on anyone else the way they had laid hands on his girl, no one would ever suffer because of them again--for now, that was enough. 

\--

Neither you nor Frankie spoke as you left the mansion and loaded into the van. You watched in the rearview mirror as Tom squeezed the lighter fluid on every inch of the foyer and the curtains that lined the walls. He pulled out a lighter and paused for a moment before flicking it to life and tossing it down. The front of the house quickly engulfed in flames, so bright they burned blue towards the bottom where the heat was the most intense. 

The wipers squeaked in a rhythmic annoyance as you sat in the van and the two of you waited for the rest of them to get the other vehicle. An SUV of guards pulled into the compound and you gripped the console as Pope and Will opened fire, busting the tinted windows and peppering everyone inside with bullets. Each man opened a door and grabbed a now lifeless guard by the shirt and pulled him out to let him slump to the ground like a ragdoll. 

You watched as Tom moved up from the ditch and shot the last guard in another spray of blood that was quickly washed down the rocks by the rain. 

It was suddenly too humid in the car. There was not enough air circulating as your chest felt tight and your breathing increased. It felt as if someone was sitting on top of you. Your hands shook, your eyes burned, and you wanted to claw at your throat to desperately rid yourself of whatever was stuck inside of your windpipe.

"Frankie," you managed to choke out as you started to feel around your vest for the buckles. "Frankie, I can't breathe." 

"Hey, hey," he said softly, turning his body in the seat to face you. Saying your name, he reached out and put his hand over yours as you kept trying to rip at the straps of the kevlar. "Stop. (Y/n) stop."

"I can't--" you started to argue with a shake of your head and you hated how weak your voice sounded. You weren't broken. You could do this. But the silence of the car, paired with finally being in a space of solitude with Frankie, was forcing every fear and thought you had in the last three days to race to the surface. 

"You can," he insisted. "We are not out of the woods yet." He took your hand in his and scooted as close to you as the center console would allow. He put your hand over his heart and made sure you locked eyes with him. "This has to stay on you. You understand? I know what you're feeling and I promise as soon as we get somewhere safe you can fall as hard as you need to and I’ll be there, okay?"

You nodded way too quickly and felt dizzy the moment the motion made your hair bounce. He squeezed the hand he had pressed against his chest and dipped his head to make sure you caught his gaze.

“I’m okay,” you said, not sounding okay in the slightest, but maybe if you said it outloud it would be true.

“I know you are,” he reassured you. “Breathe with me. In through your nose--there it is. Out through your mouth. You got it. Here.” He leaned forward and turned on the A/C, pointing the extra vents at you and breathing became easier once you felt the cool air tickle the strands of your hair. He kept hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it a few times.

“Thank you,” you closed your eyes and leaned back against the headrest continuing to breathe as evenly as you could. 

“No thanks needed, sweetheart,” he said quietly, looking back out the window as Pope gave him a signal to keep moving. “That’s us.” 

You started to pull your hand away so he could drive but he kept his grip on it, balancing them on the gearshift as he moved his freehand to the top of the steering wheel. The unconscious action made you smile a bit. Something as simple as holding his hand over the console of the car reminded you of summer drives in his truck. With rolled down windows and a classic rock station, you could almost smell the wind in the grass and hear the frogs calling along the tree line. You held onto that memory as tightly as you held onto his hand, knowing that it was the only things that were going to get you out of this fucking jungle in one piece.


	5. Beast of Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's have some happy shall we? You flash back to one of your earliest memories with Frankie. You and Will have a heart to heart. (Thank you guys so much for your amazing compliments and feedback. It means the world.)   
> **There is a Top Gun reference in here because y'all cannot sit there and tell me it's not Fransisco Catfish Morales's favorite movie--so, if you've never seen it, it might seem out of place or left field but I PROMISE it is fitting.

The two vehicles drove one behind the other for most of the morning. You watched the sun come up through the dense tree line, little slivers of golden flashes of light through the lush, green leaves that made you smile slightly in its beauty. Seeing the sun, knowing that the distance between you and Lorea's mansion was growing by the minute, made you finally be able to draw a deep breath without feeling like you were going to crack a rib in the process. The panic had subsided, but afterwards came the muscle fatigue and unadulterated exhaustion of being that tense for that long. Your eyes were heavy, but you couldn't sleep, not yet.   
Frankie eventually let go of your hand, needing both of them to turn the steering wheel on some of the switchback roads in the heart of the jungle, but as soon as the road turned straight again, his hand was a warm and gentle weight on your thigh. It was as if he thought the moment he stopped touching you, you would cease to be real. Maybe he was right--maybe his touch was the only thing keeping you centered in your own existence right now. 

"You should sleep," he said quietly, glancing away from the road to look at you then back. 

"I can't." 

He squeezed your thigh and nodded. "You look exhausted."

You chuckled softly and smiled halfheartedly. "I've been awake for the better part of three days, Frankie. If I didn't look exhausted, I would be worried."

He grinned in return, thankful that you at least we're starting to sound like your old self. You both still had a long way to go. He selfishly longed to see that spark back within you, the one he fell in love with--the one that gave him courage and the strength to do just about anything, including getting out of this fucking jungle. 

He pulled into a very old, rundown airstrip hangar and you sat up a little straighter, taking off your seat belt as he threw it in park. A small yellow beat up gremlin was parked off to the side where a pretty woman and a man leaned against the open hatchback.

"Who's that?" You asked.

"Pope's informant. We owe her big time."

You looked at her and suddenly was overwhelmed with the idea of not knowing what to say. She looked so normal, a civilian that should have been far away from all of this chaos and yet here she was, playing a huge part in the fact that you were still alive. 

Frankie got out of the van and walked around the front to open the door for you as he held out his hand. You nodded your thanks and gripped it, leaning on him more than you would have liked, but god dammit you were tired. 

"Your girlfriend is here," Frankie nodded towards the yellow car as Pope hopped out of the second SUV. 

"Girlfriend?" Now that made you smile as you raised an eyebrow at your brother who blushed.

"Shut up," he said flatly before walking over to them. Frankie chuckled and shook his head. 

He put his hand in the edge of your hair at your temple, gently running his thumb over the side of your forehead as he looked you over. "I gotta start weighing these bags. Go sit with Will. I'll be close by," he added before you could protest, with a wink and a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Okay,” you said softly and he hesitated for a moment before drawing you into the circle of his arms and sighing heavily. You clung to his shirt and breathed him in and he hugged you so tightly you felt compressed, but you weren’t about to tell him to stop. “Frankie--” you focused on the way he smelled, like humidity and sweat but underneath it all it was still him, solid and warm. “If you keep hugging me like this, I’m going to lose it and I can’t--I can’t right now.” Your voice faltered towards the end and you balled his shirt into your fists.

“Do you want me to stop?” he mumbled against your hair and the very idea brought tears to the front of your eyes. 

“God, no,” you let out an exasperated laugh and he squeezed you tighter. You pulled back slightly and wiped your eyes on the back of your hand, giving him a smile. With each touch he offered, your heart felt lighter, but then again that had always been one of Frankie’s powers over you. 

“Fuck!”  
Both of you turned as Benny got out of the SUV and slammed the door shut, kicking the tire. Will and Tom followed suit but shut the doors normally, adjusting the strap of their rifles and packs. “What?” Tom snarled at Benny and the younger man threw his arms up in the air.

“What do you mean ‘what’? That was a shit job back there and you know it! We don’t leave messes like that!” Benny was seething. Frankie felt you tense and he let go of you slowly and turned to the other men. 

“Hey--Ben, Benny!” He raised his voice and the younger man looked at him. “Take a walk--relax.” He rubbed his hand down his face and glanced at you apologetically as Benny threw his pack down and laced his hands on top of his head, breathing deeply and walking into the grass. 

“If no one cares,” Will put a hand to his left side and winced. “I think I’m gonna sit.”

“Let me help,” you said, jogging over to the blond and he smiled slightly. 

Tom and Frankie started unloading the duffel bags of cash onto the giant rusty scale that sat under a dilapidated awning. Will sat down on a concrete ledge that connected to a retainer wall and he cursed quietly, when he moved his hand away from the wound his fingers had a few drops of fresh blood on them. “Shit,” he sighed.

“You got another bandage kit?” you asked, dropping down to one knee and starting to unzip his pack for him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, wincing again as he pulled his shirt up to examine the wound further. “You don’t have to--”

“Hush,” you said and he laughed, making you return it. Will had one of the most infectious smiles and laughs of any of your brother’s crew. 

“I missed you, ya know? We all did.” He watched as you lifted his shirt out of your way and removed the first round of gauze that was bloody and soaked through. 

“I missed you guys, too. It’s been a long time.” 

“Too bad we gotta get the gang back together for this--haven’t any of us heard of like a barbecue or something?” he joked. You laughed but didn’t respond, focusing on trying not to rip any of the new clotting off as you cleaned the area, ripping open more gauze with your teeth and spitting the packaging out onto the ground. “You know who missed you most though, right?” he asked, nodding towards the scale as Frankie and Tom continued to toss bags onto it. 

“Tom?” you asked and she threw his head back and laughed.

“Smart ass,” he shook his head. “He worried himself sick. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“I know.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you could only imagine how Frankie felt the last few days. 

“All these years--” Will waited until you had placed the new bandage and sealed it off with medical tape and a wrap around his waist before he spoke again. “He never stopped loving you.”

“Will..”

“No, I’m serious. And if both of you are too stubborn to admit it and are going to make the rest of us point it out, then fine.” He dipped his head slightly, making you look him in the eyes. “That man is going to fucking love you until the day he dies, and I’m not telling you what you should do but,” he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “If you feel the same, I can’t think of a better time to say something than after almost dying in the fucking jungle.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, plopping down on the wall beside him and tossing the rest of the unused cloth into his pack. “Yeah, I know. You’re right.”

“I know I am.” He said flatly and you punched his arm.

“Shut up, Miller.” 

\--

Many Years Ago  
Somewhere Back in Dallas TX, USA  
You had met Frankie Morales a handful of times, always in passing and always hanging back behind the others with a beer in his hand and his ball cap pulled just low enough to hide under--a move that he had perfected over many years. He was quiet, sweet, and incredibly handsome. For some reason, unknown to you, they called him ‘Fish’, must have been a military thing, because to you it was dumb.

You brother’s military friends were loud, boisterous, and could drink themselves under the table if they truly wanted to. You had asked Santiago about Frankie and he had just grinned and nudged you in the ribs until you blushed and told him to just forget it. That night however, you sat in the lawn chair, laughing with your family and stealing glances his way. And when you saw your brother pop him two beers and nod his head towards you, you wanted to crawl under the table. Despite the embarrassment of your brother playing both matchmaker and wingman, you squared your shoulders and smiled up at him as he offered you a beer. 

Conversation with Frankie was easy, once you got him talking. He was content to let you ramble on and watch you with a small smile and those kind, brown eyes. But once you found something he was interested in, well, he came alive. One beer turned to two, and then to three, and the next thing you knew the two of you had hopped up in the bed of his truck, feet dangling over the tailgate, watching the fireflies in the tall grasses of the field that belonged to the farmers down the street. Since then, fireflies and the smell of summer time honeysuckle always reminded you of the first time you kissed Frankie Morales. 

“And how long have you wanted to do that?” you smiled as he gently bumped his forehead against yours and stole another quick peck. 

“About the better part of a year,” he chuckled. “Can I do it again?” 

“I would be upset if you didn’t.” You grinned and slid your arms around his neck as his hand slid around the curve of your waist and he laid you back in the bed of the truck. 

His lips were soft, but his kiss was as hot as the summer air. He slid his tongue over your lip and you opened your mouth to receive him with a soft sigh of content. You wanted to bury your fingers in his dark hair, so you knocked his cap off and did just that. The action seemed to spur him on as his knee came up slowly between your thighs and started to push up the hem of your dress. 

“That okay?” he asked against your lips and you nodded, pulling him more firmly against the front of your body. 

His actions made you feel bold, feel brave in a way you had never felt before. He was a brave man who had seen a lot of the world, and you wanted him to show it to you. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him again before he moved down to nose your neck. 

"Mhmm," you smiled and closed your eyes and you felt him suck a kiss against your pulse point. "That's nice."

"Yeah?" He mumbled against your jaw and pressed his knee further into the apex of your thighs. When you shamelessly started grinding against the front of his jeans he let out a groan that made you giggle. 

"Roll over," you said and he relented, moving onto his back and grabbing your hips to drag you to straddle his waist. You could feel how hard he was beneath the denim and you put your hands on his chest and rode him, letting the shape of his cock rub against your panties under your sun dress. 

"Fuck, sweetheart, come here," he sat up as you leaned down, crashing your lips together. His big hand cradling your face as his fingers threaded through the edge of your hair. His other hand disappeared under your dress and hesitated.

"Yes, Frankie, yes, go ahead. Please, touch me." You said breathlessly before he could even ask permission. At your words he dipped his hand down to cup your mound and he let his fingers part your folds.

"You're so wet. Is that because of me?" He grinned because he knew the answer to that.

"No, it's because of the other guy I was kissing in the bed of his truck." You tried to joke but gasped as he sunk one of his thick fingers inside of you.

"That so?"

"Shut up," you slapped his chest and he laughed, deep and genuine. Despite the fact that his hand was buried in your underwear, his laugh and boyish smile is what made you blush. Shit. You were in trouble.

You bucked your hips against his hand and moaned as he added a second finger and moved his thumb up to rub your clit. His hands were so fucking big, it made you wonder what was tucked carefully into those tight Levi's. You looked down at his handsome face, lit by the moonlight and the single street lamp at the end of the dirt road. It made you kiss him again, closing your eyes and really savoring the taste of his mouth. His fingers curved inside of you and sped up, pressing and rolling the pad of his thumb against your clit. 

"Right there, oh, fuck, Frankie don't stop." 

"I love it when you say my name." He nosed your cheek and the feeling of his beard against your soft skin gave you chills. 

"Frankie," you sighed again and it made him move back to devour your mouth as if he could eat the word from your lips. You bounced lightly in his lap against his hand, brushing his clothed cock with the inside of your thigh and it made him grunt. 

When you came it was a soft cry against his cheek as you clung to his shoulders and felt your pussy clench around his fingers. It was sweet, tender, and exactly what you needed. When you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you and grinning. You started to speak but were cut off by another male voice.

"Hey, Fish!"

"Shit!" You whispered and Frankie wrapped his arms around your waist and leaned back in the truck bed. You stifled a laugh as you landed against his chest and he pulled his hand from under your dress. 

"Shh, shh," he chuckled and put a finger to your lips. When you realized it was one of the fingers that had just been inside of you, you sucked it in your mouth down to the knuckle. He groaned, and whispered quietly, "You're killing me, princesa." 

"Fish! I can see your boots, man, I'm not a moron." Will called from the fence line that lined the field where his truck was parked. 

"Fuck," Frankie said, leaning his head back with a sigh. "What!" He barked and you gripped the front of his t-shirt, giggling again. 

"We're heading out and wanted to know if you were com--wait a second. That better not be Pope's sister in there! Just sayin'," he laughed and you felt your cheeks get hot.

You sat up from your spot on Frankie's lap and popped over the edge of the truck. "Fuck off, Will Miller!" Frankie yanked you back down and you fell into a fit of giggles as he rolled on top of you again.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He called and you were laughing so hard you let out a snort and Frankie looked at you in gleeful surprise that just made you laugh more. 

"I'm not getting involved in this," Will shook his head and chuckled. "Just wear a fuckin' condom, and maybe some kevlar when you tell Pope."

Your jaw dropped and you buried your face against Frankie's chest and he chuckled as well. "So much for being discreet." You both waited, silently daring each other to make a move as you listened to the sound of Will's retreating boots in the gravel road. 

He dipped back down and kissed you again, slow and deep, as you reached for his belt and started to undo the buckle. His hand covered both of yours as he stopped your movements. "Wait--"

"What?" You asked, suddenly worried that the looming idea of your older sibling finding out had ruined your chances with him. 

"Can I--uh. Can I take you to dinner?" 

You bit your lip as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks once again. "I was right."

"About what?"

"You are the sweetest man I have ever met," you smiled and leaned up to cup his face and kiss him again. 

"So, is that a yes?" He mumbled against your mouth and you nodded.

"Take off your pants, Frankie."

\--

You thought about the night you first kissed Frankie and wished it could be that simple again. Both of you were just kids. Your world revolved around scraping by to pay the bills and fucking in the cab of his truck. God, you missed that truck. 

Will hopped off the divider wall as a small plane landed and the guy who he had paid to provide transport got out to shake his hand. Frankie eyed the puddle jumper with disdain and threw his hand out towards it. 

"The fuck are we gonna do with that thing?" He asked, looking at Tom in question as you came to stand behind him. The whirring of a chopper drew their eyes to the lush tree covered mountain as their real ride crested the landscape and Frankie gave a sigh of relief. "Now, we're talkin'."

The wind from the blades whipped the tall grasses and anything not secured blew freely. Your hair covered your face for a moment and you hastily dug a hair tie from your back pocket and secured the strands. Frankie and Tom set to getting the large, canvas drop net secured to the bottom of the aircraft but you knew by the tension in his shoulders there was already a problem.

"This won't all fit in the net!" Frankie yelled, stopping Tom from putting more bags in. "If you want more it needs to go in the body!" 

"It'll fit!" Tom said back and Frankie shook his head.

"If that scale is even close to being correct we have six thousand pounds here!" Frankie said as the rest of the men approached them both to find out what was going on. "That's 250 million dollars!"

"We stole 250 million dollars?!" Benny said with a giant smile on his face. "I'm definitely getting that fucking Ferrari!" He grabbed a bag and headed for the chopper. 

"That's not the point--fuck," Frankie looked at Pope, desperate for anyone who would listen. "If that scale is right, we're gonna have a weight issue!"

"What's the issue? This helo can carry 9,000 pounds!" Tom said, gesturing to the helicopter and you saw the vein jump in Frankie's neck. They weren't fucking listening.

"That's 9,000 pounds at 2,000 feet...we have to fly over the fucking Andes, man!" Frankie literally stomped in place and threw his arm out towards the mountains.

"Are we really going to leave 200 million dollars on the fucking runway?!" Tom asked and you couldn't take it anymore.

"That's better than being dead, Tom!" You said, taking a step forward.

"You don't get a vote," he snapped, pointing a finger at you and Frankie clenched his fist and moved you behind his body.

"Enough!" Will said, putting his hands out and looking between the two men. "We need to decide now. What are we gonna do?"

Frankie let out a deep breath and rubbed his hand over his hat and down to the back of his neck. You watched as his forearm flexed, the vein in his neck was back, popping out with his rising frustrations. He finally shook his head and held up his hands in defense. "Okay. Okay. She'll make it. Let's go!"

"Frankie," you touched his arm but before you could say anything Tom gestured to the two people leaning against the yellow car. 

"What about them?" He jerked his thumb back indicating Pope's informant and her brother. "We're already overweight as it is!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me-" you started but your brother was already a step ahead of you. 

"We promised them a ride over the border into Peru! She's the reason I got my sister back! Now, I'm going to help her get out of this fucking country with her brother--like I promised! No exceptions!" Pope waved his arm telling them to follow him into the helicopter. 

Frankie put his hand on your lower back and gave your hips a boost to get you inside the craft. He helped you sit down and pulled the straps of the harness connected to the wall over each of your shoulders as he crouched in front of you. His face was scrunched in thought but you knew it wasn't about the complexity of the safety belt, he could do that with his eyes closed. No, you knew what it was about.

"We're not going to make it are we?" You asked flatly and he looked up at you.

"We will. Because I said so." He snapped the buckle shut and jerked on the strap by your breast making sure it was secure.

"Frankie, you're the best pilot I've ever met. If you say it's too much weight, then it's too much weight." 

"Yeah, well, Tom's the one in charge."

"Tom can kiss my fucking ass," you snapped and his lips tilted up slightly in a grin. 

"There's my girl." He used his knuckle to give the underside of your chin a gentle kip. 

You put your hand on his chest and took hold of the fabrics of his button up and pulled him to you for a heated kiss. It was much more than the one at the mansion had been. You opened yourself to him and he took the hint and shoved his tongue in your mouth like you wanted. The slight twinge of pain you felt from your busted lip was worth the sound that came from the back of his throat. It was rough, it was wet, and it was two years overdue. When you pulled back you saw the spark of confidence back in his eyes that you had hoped to put there.

Kissing Frankie always made you feel small, but not in a bad way, like you were protected, like you were safe. With his arms boxing you in and his weight pressing gently against you, kissing Frankie felt like being home. And he was as close to home as you were going to get this deep in the jungle.

"Get us out of here, Mav," you said, and he chuckled at the nickname he had not heard in a very long time.

"You got it, Goose." 

He gave you one last kiss on the forehead before finally tearing himself away from you and heading up to the cockpit where he was needed. Since he had found you in Lorea's mansion, this was the most physical distance that had been between you and Frankie and you didn't like it at all. Pair that with the knowledge that despite his protests and being the only one in the group with his fucking pilot's license, they had ignored his concerns about the weight--yeah, your heart was starting to beat pretty hard. You took a deep breath and laid your head back against the metal wall. 

You looked up as Pope helped the informant sit next to you. He buckled her in the same way Frankie had done you and the action made you smile.

"You okay?" Pope called over the noise of the chopper and touched your arm.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you nodded, squeezing his hand and watching him go to the front to check on Frankie as the Miller brothers slammed the side doors shut and took their seats. You glanced to the woman at your left and suddenly was at a loss for words. How did you even begin to thank her for everything she had done? For the risks she had taken? She may have gotten something out of it but it still didn't change the fact that you were alive because of her.

"He's your brother?" She said, nodding to Pope's retreating form.

"Yeah," you nodded.

"He is a good man. I need you to know that." She said, her voice cracking a bit and it made your chest tight. 

"I know." You put your hand over hers and gripped it, simply because it seemed like the right thing to do. "Thank you." The two of you leaned back as the helicopter started to lift in the air and rock back and forth gently.

What else was there to say?


	6. Hold On Loosely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who have seen the movie know what is about to happen. But it might not be in the way you think. We get a little bit more Reader and Pope interaction and someone mentioned wondering about her relationship with Benny and I was like Oh perfect timing for this then...Enjoy.

\--  
“What’s my name?!” he yelled over the wind of the helicopter behind him.  
“I-I don’t know,” She hugged her own body, clutching the duffel bag to her chest and looked at him with uncertainty. The wind blew her dark hair around her face and she made it a point to put herself between her younger brother and the man in front of her. 

“Your buddy back there--” he swung his arm around and pointed. “What’s his name?” She shook her head and he raised an eyebrow. “I can just go ask him!”

“I said I don’t know!”

“Now,” he touched her arm and she had to fight not to shrug him off. He dipped his head and his tone was condescending. “When you two finally had sex--and you rolled over and said, ‘what’s your real name’--what’d he say?” 

“That never happened!” She shrugged him off then and snarled at him. “He told me you served together...and that you were honest.”

“Why’d he say that?” Tom leaned back in mild surprise.

“Because I asked if he trusted you.”

“Why?”

“I was worried about you cheating him…”

The chopper had landed on the Peruvian border just like Pope had promised. They had dropped off the informant and her brother and although you couldn’t hear what was being said, you could tell by Tom’s dramatic body language and the disgust on her face that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Your brother handed her their cut of the money and touched her face tenderly as she held onto his arm and they said their goodbyes. 

Tom stormed back onto the helicopter and sat down, crossing his arms and closing his eyes. You couldn’t help but think that he reminded you more and more of a child throwing a tantrum instead of a hardened military veteran leading a mission. It was as if he knew you were staring because he opened his eyes and looked at you. You averted your gaze quickly. 

Pope cleared the threshold of the copter and took Benny’s seat as the younger man went up to take his shift with Frankie in the cockpit. Your brother put his headset on and opened his arm so you could lean against him and hug his side. 

“You liked her, didn’t you?” you asked him, looking up with your head on his chest.

“I’m just glad she’s safe.” He said vaguely and you knew not to push the subject. He rubbed his hand up and down over your arm as if to warm you up and you let out a sigh of contentment. 

“She’s lying,” Tom’s voice crackled through the coms on the headsets and both you and Pope looked at him. 

“No, she’s not.” Pope said firmly and glared at the other man. 

“You know what we should have done?” Tom let his thought remain unfinished and you felt your brother tense under your arms. Your stomach dropped as you realized what Tom meant. Before either of you could say anything, Will spoke up, always the voice of reason.

“That’s one you wouldn’t come back from, brother,” he said. He was leaning back against a few of the duffel bags with his arm propped up to keep his side un-strained.

The four of you were quiet for a long time, each mulling over Tom’s words in your own way as the chopper whirred around you rhythmically. The dark sky was crystal clear and you watched as the city below you slowly started to disappear and give way to the dark tops of the trees. 

“You still doing okay?” Pope asked and you nodded. 

“I’m exhausted,” you said, trying your best to stifle a yawn with his shirt. “But I’m worried if I sleep I’m going to wake back up in that mansion.” It was the first time you had admitted it out loud, but, however ridiculous, it was the truth. Every time you closed your eyes, it was as if you were back in that room, tied to that chair. The darkness that enveloped you wasn’t from sleep, it was the goddamn blindfold being put back over your eyes and it made your heart start racing as panic built in your chest. 

“Hey,” Pope said, dipping his head to look at you. “You know I was going to find you no matter what, right?” He gave you another squeeze. “I wasn’t leaving this fucking jungle without my little sister.”

You released a heavy breath and laid your head back against your shoulder, smiling slightly and forcing your mind to remember that you really were safe. Before you could start to drift off, you opened your eyes and leaned back enough to look at him. “If I promise to try and sleep, will you go check on Frankie?”

Pope chuckled and rolled his eyes before succumbing to your request. “Yes. You rest and I will go check on Fish.” As he got up, he shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it over you before moving towards the cockpit. 

"The weight drags when we get into higher altitudes so I want to keep it under 5,000 feet until we hit the Andes. We'll hit the ocean in four hours." Frankie's voice came through the com on your headset and you suddenly felt better. Tom's voice came through confirming that they had heard him and understood. 

Four hours. Four hours and you would be headed home. After everything, it seemed like such a small amount of time and with Frankie at the helm, there was nothing to worry about. 

\--

When you woke up, it was because you were shivering. The main hull of the helicopter had dropped a considerable amount as it flew through the night and started to rise in altitude the closer it got to the Andes. Your brother was still gone but his jacket was pooled in your lap where it had slipped down off your chest. Both of the Miller brothers were sleeping peacefully and you were glad that Will had finally managed to get comfortable. 

You sat up and slipped your headset back on so you could hear what they were saying. Standing up and stepping into the cockpit, the view out of the front of the aircraft was breathtaking. The mountains were huge, rocky crags that were covered in bright, white snow that reflected the sun off of its smooth surface. 

"I'm gonna try and head for the two peaks I saw on the map. If we can aim for that valley it will be easier," Frankie said.

"Roger," Tom replied and both men looked up as you stepped over the threshold and put your hand on Frankie's shoulder.

"Hey, you," he said quietly, giving a small smile as you gave his arm a squeeze. 

"It's beautiful," you said, clearing the sleep from your voice and nodding ahead of you. There was a clear divide between the lush, green trees on the mountains below and the drastic change in altitude that allowed for the snow to accumulate. 

"It is," Frankie nodded, reaching forward and flipping up a small switch before putting both hands back on the joy stick. "You finally rest?"

"A little," you said. You pulled your headset down to rest on the base of your neck so you could lean forward and kiss his cheek gently. He kept his eyes ahead but the action made him smile, making the small lines at the edge of his eyes crinkle. 

"Can you cut the domestic bullshit please?" Tom said, gruffly. "How steep do you think that is?" He pointed to the nearest peak and Frankie looked at him sternly. 

"It's about 11,000 feet. We can't make that. I gotta find another way." Frankie shook his head and readjusted his grip on the controls. 

"That's the quickest way to the ocean from here. You should go for it."

Both you and the man to your left looked at Tom in surprise and annoyance. Who was he to call the shots like this? This wasn't a matter of choice, this was a matter of if something was possible or not. You put your hand on Frankie's shoulder as the helicopter started to rise up the side of the mountain. 

Frankie dipped his head to look up through the windshield, glancing down at all of the controls and watching as the lights started to flash in warning. You looked over your shoulder as Pope came up to stand behind you and watch what was happening. 

"Alright, baby," Frankie said softly, talking to the aircraft. "Alright, baby, come on now." 

He caressed the controls like he had caressed you. His fingers were familiar with them, what made them tick, and how best to move each dial and joystick. Frankie had always flown with a meticulous care that never failed to impress you--it was his favorite thing in the world. His heart lived in the sky and you loved that about him. A loud and rapid beeping drew you from your thoughts as the control panel started blinking red and orange.

"We're redlining man," Pope spoke up behind you as he pointed to the sensors. 

"It's close though," Frankie grit his teeth and cursed under his breath. "It's too much weight. It's too much fucking weight. We're never going to make it."

"What does that mean?" Tom asked, sternly.

"It means we're losing fucking money."

"You wanna leave 50 million dollars in the middle of the jungle?"

"You wanna get to the ocean?" Frankie snapped finally, his voice not leaving any room for argument from Tom. The other man glared at him for a moment before looking over his shoulder to address Pope.

"Alright, go do it."

The idea that Tom controlled what he imagined to be the fate of the money, but in reality it was all of your lives, was complete insanity to you--especially because he seemed to be so flippant about the importance of the latter. You looked over your shoulder as your brother lowered the hatch on the back of the aircraft and a bitterly cold wind filled the cabin. The Miller brothers started shoving duffel bags filled with money out into a free fall down to the snow covered landscape of the Andes. 

The immediate beeping of the control panel quieted down and Frankie gave an approving nod. “That's feeling better.” He dipped his head lower, leaning forward in his chair as if the movement would help the craft in its painfully slow ascend over the mountains. “Come on. Come on.”

You held your breath as Frankie crested you over the top of the mountain and, just like he promised, there was the ocean. The sun glittered off the water as it rose in the sky and you felt a sense of relief that was comparable to how you felt when Frankie had cut you loose from your bindings in the mansion. Both times he had brought you a sense of safety that made your heart stutter against your ribs. Then the beeping came back. The aircraft paused for a brief moment before it dropped into a free fall.

Your ass hit the metal floor hard and your stomach twisted into knots like you were on a roller coaster. Santiago’s arm wrapped around your waist and hauled you up against him as the copter shook and the metal screamed, alarms going off from multiple places on the dashboard. 

“What the fuck are you doing Catfish!?” Will yelled as he gripped the handle above his head and put a hand over the bullet wound on his side. 

Frankie’s voice came through the headset, calmer than he most likely felt. ”One of the gear boxes is blown--I don't want to go into a spin.” You all continued to fall in the air down the side of the mountain and his voice became strained as he gripped the joystick and tried to balance it out. “We might be in trouble here. I'm losing altitude--we should land. We should land now.”

“Crash land here we all die!” Tom yelled, looking at his pilot with wide eyes.

“I'm trying to get her back to flat--”

“Prepare for a hard landing!” Tom barked behind at the rest of you.

Frankie flew back down over the canopy of the jungle, the snow giving way to the lush green of the treetops as he tried to maneuver towards the village that you all had seen during your first initial climb. Benny leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as he gripped the handle closest to him. You could feel your brother’s heart hammering against your back, but on the outside he remained calm for the sake of the rest of his crew. 

“I can't land this with the drop bag under us. We should lose the money and maybe we don't die.” Frankie turned and looked at Tom. The man glared at him but remained quiet. The fact that now, looking certain death in the eyes, Tom decided to shut his mouth, pissed you off. And apparently, it did Frankie as well because without Tom’s permission he looked over his shoulder and yelled over his mic on his headset. “LOSE THE MONEY OR WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!”  
“Fuck this,” you mumbled as you pulled Santiago’s arm from around you and scrambled to your feet. 

You had been on flights with Frankie enough times that you knew what the external load release looked like. It was the only fucking leaver on the wall, after all. You leaned over Benny and grabbed the red handle and yanked it down. The cargo doors in the floor opened slowly but the canvas net bag full of duffel bags stayed securely attached to the bottom of the helicopter. 

“Frankie! It’s not working!” You called out to him and he glanced back at you again.

“There's a manual override on the cargo hook!” His voice was full of worry as he told you to stop. “Let Benny do it--fuck!”

He cursed, watching as you ignored him and leaned over the open door to find the manual override. The wind from the blades and the altitude whipped your hair against your face and you grabbed onto the rope, feeling for a trigger mechanism of some kind. You cursed as black smoke billowed from the top of the aircraft and obscured your vision. The giant metal release was on the other side of the net and was way out of your reach. 

“Spot me!” You turned and yelled at Benny as he fell to his knees beside you and you ripped off your headset.

Benny nodded and helped you lower yourself through the hatch and onto the rope. He gripped your arm as you extended your leg and landed a firm kick with your booth onto the latch. When the bag fell, the helicopter gave a jolt as the weight shifted and Benny toppled through the hatch with you. You screamed as you heard Pope call your name and you looked up to see that the only thing that connected you to the copter was Benny’s grip. 

“Benny!” Will lunged for his brother and grabbed him by the back of the shirt. The ground was coming closer and closer as Frankie tried to level out the craft and land it in the middle of the field. 

“I can’t hold us both!” Benny yelled back at the blond. “We gotta jump!”

“No!” Pope reached through the hole in the floor but Benny was right. He didn’t give them any time to argue as he let go of the edge of the hatch and the both of you dropped the last twenty or so feet to the ground. 

You hit the ground so hard it knocked the wind from your chest. Bits of dirt flew into your mouth as you gasped and covered your face with your arm. As the helicopter touched down, dirt and debris whipped around in the air and you squinted to try and see through it all. The blade on the tail caught the dirt and the whole craft jerked sideways as huge chunks of metal flew directly toward you and Benny. 

“Get down!” He grabbed you and shoved you back down onto the ground covering you with his body as it continued to spin and jerk. The metal groaned, the blades squealed and all you could think of was if Frankie was still in control of it or if you were all just holding your breath and waiting for it to be over. 

Black smoke and chunks of upturned earth continued to fly long after the craft came to a stop but the blades still slowly continued to turn. Benny moved his body off of yours and helped you stand as you both took off running towards the wreckage. 

“Santi!” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

“Here!” Your brother called back as Will popped the door open and they both started to climb up out of the sideways craft. “We’re fine!”

“Fish!” Benny yelled as he got to the front and your heart stopped. Both Frankie and Tom were not moving as fast as Pope and Will. The glass of the windshield was shattered, but still hanging in the frame and Benny quickly raised his knee and kicked it free in giant sheets.

Tom crawled out onto the grass and coughed, fresh blood coming from an abrasion on his eyebrow. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Help Fish.”

As soon as Tom was out of the way, Benny got down and leaned in, grabbing the other man by the forearms and hauling him out onto the ground. 

“Frankie,” you breathed, running the rest of the way to him. Benny moved to the side as you approached and you threw yours arms around him tightly.

Frankie squeezed you tightly, before leaning back to hold you at arm's length. He dipped his head to look you in the eyes as he gripped your upper arms and shook you slightly. “What you thinking--what the fuck were you thinking?!”

You watched as blood slowly dripped down a fresh, large gash on Frankie’s upper cheek, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He couldn’t look away from you. His eyes were wild and his chest was heaving and even though his words were harsh, his tone didn’t hold any anger--it held fear. Your eyes burned and your chest felt tight, and the moment he saw it reflected on your face, his resolve crumbled and he pulled you back against his chest.

“You scared the shit out of me, baby,” He confessed as he pressed his lips to the top of your head and shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck.” He shook his head and looked up at the man standing behind you. “Thanks, Ben.”

Benny nodded as he helped Will jump from the door of the helicopter and Pope crawled out behind him, with his rifle clutched in his hand. He started tossing gear down to the ground and they passed around backpacks and guns. Frankie let you go reluctantly as Pope hopped down to the ground and handed him a new bulletproof vest. 

“They’re gettin’ into the fucking net,” Tom cursed and the rest of you looked up to watch as people from the nearby village had flooded the site where the bag had dropped. Sure enough, they were using tools and machetes to rip through the thick ropes of the drop net and get into the duffel bags. 

”What’s the plan here?” Pope said, propping his rifle on his arm and looking around.

“We’re getting that money back over the mountain and to the ocean,” Tom said, fastening his vest and grabbing his own weapon. “Benny, cover us from that treeline there.” He pointed to the right. “Fish, I want you at that vantage point over there.” He pointed to the left and then continued. “That’s cocaine they’re growing, so they could have guns already trained on us from those watchtowers over there.”

“We got working coms?” Will asked and Tom shook his head.

“No, we’ll use hand signals. Pope and I will get out there and look as peaceful as we can--we’ll signal when we think it's secure.” Tom looked to each of them to make sure they understood before nodding once. “Move out.”

As they all started to move in their assigned directions, Frankie moved his rifle to one hand, so he could take yours with his other. “You’re coming with me.” 

You didn’t argue, not wanting to leave his side regardless. You desperately wanted to inspect the cut on his face, but you knew while he was tasked with watching the back of Pope and Tom, Frankie wouldn’t dare think about himself. You could ask, but he wouldn’t let you, so what was the point? He moved you both up the hill and squatted low into the tall grasses of the field, pressing his right eye to his scope for a minute to make sure he had a shot lined up if he needed it. 

As you both watched the retreating forms of Tom and Pope walk towards the farmers, Frankie glanced at you. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches mainly,” you shook your head and looked down at your palms and arms. “That’s it. You’re bleeding, though.” You nodded towards his face.

“I’m fine,” he said stubbornly, like you knew he would. “Don’t do anything like that again.” His voice was flat and you fought the urge to snap back at him. The adrenaline had been high for you both, the last thing you needed was to fight with the man you currently needed most. 

“We both are going to do what it takes to get home--”

“You don’t have to prove to anyone that you’re a badass--”

“Don’t pull that macho bullshit with me--”

The two of you glared at one another and then his face broke into a small grin. He rolled his eyes and mumbled something about you being stubborn before looking back through his scope. You knew he was just worried. Was it reckless to do what you did on the drop net? Absolutely. But this entire trip had been nothing but the five of them risking their lives for you, and you were tired. Tired of being the reason that everyone you cared about in this fucking jungle was in constant danger. So, when Frankie told you to be smart, it was because he just wanted you home. He just wanted you safe. 

You stayed quiet as you both watched the scene unfold in the field below. Both Tom and Pope were talking with their hands, gesturing, and speaking quickly. Hearing what was being said wasn’t necessary, their body language was more than enough, this talk wasn’t going in their favor. 

“Pope, what's he reaching for? Is that a weapon?” Frankie spoke with his gun against his shoulder as he used the hand that wasn’t on the trigger to press the button on his radio.

No response.

“Pope, do you cop-”

“Frankie,” you touched his shoulder as you remembered the coms were dead from the crash.

Frankie leaned back and glanced at you before looking to his radio and cursing quietly. Pope had his arms out in a defensive position, speaking quickly over Tom who had his hand on his gun. This was bad. This was very bad. Frankie adjusted his grip on the rifle and his body went still. Tom pulled his gun and it was as if everything before you happened in slow motion. 

The villagers yelled and Tom used his handgun to fire into the chest of the one nearest to him. Then again and again. Blood blossomed to life through their clothing and they dropped to the ground. The second one of them took another step forward, Frankie pulled the trigger, doing what he was trained to do--protect those on your squad. 

His rifle echoed and ricocheted back on his shoulder and the man who had stepped towards Pope dropped just like the three before him. You watched as the other men gave the order for the villagers to get back and the screaming continued. Benny ran down the mountain and Frankie stood but you didn’t move. You were frozen in place as you saw Tom raise his gun at the unarmed man, now struggling to breathe, on the ground. You may not have liked him to begin with, but now you knew--Tom was going to get all of you killed.


End file.
